A Marriage of Convenience
by crosseyedbutterfly
Summary: Because escaping an unwanted return to the family that cast you aside as a child would certainly be convenient. T/B, set years after WotE. Rating M to be safe for later chapters.
1. Prologue

A Marriage of Convenience

Because escaping an unwanted return to the family that cast you aside as a child would certainly be convenient. T/B, set years after WotE

-090-

Author's Note: In 2009 I set down my fanfiction writing pen, deciding it was time for me to start my own works. Life had another plan. Eight years, two children, and several unexpected twists plot later I find myself here, with a 20 some chapter story almost complete. Two years ago, due to an unexpected increase in free time spent in hospitals and doctors offices once again, I began to write once more. This was what came the easiest, for a time. A story I had held onto for years as a dream that I wouldn't commit to. To a love arc I wanted completed but never saw come to fruition. It may still happen in the canon, but given how long the wait has become between publishings by this particular author, I will no longer hold my breath. I hope you enjoy my final entry (which I really do mean this time) into fanfiction as a whole. Thank you.

-090-

Prologue

Valden Chandler rose with the sun, as he had every day as long as he could remember. Breakfast waited for him in his office, along with a stack of correspondence that had arrived since yesterday morning. He took care of matters at home first, then would head to the office to put in his time at the family business before returning for an evening with his wife and children. He was a disciplined, practical man and liked having his days and weeks ordered ahead of time so he knew exactly what was coming when.

This morning was no exception. He took a bite from the steaming plate as he opened the first letter, a missive from one of his cousins advising that a shipment might be late due to 'unexpected complications'. There seemed to be an unusual number of those lately; he would need to have a word with the man. The two following were from acquaintances, wanting to know if he knew of anyone in the city who still had a stock of a certain kind of oil. He did; it was him, and he would sell it at premium even if it was to friends of a friend.

Valden was still debating how much of a markup he could get away with when the next envelope in the pile caught his attention. It was stamped with the seal of the Stone Circle Temple in white wax. A reply, finally! He had thought it would arrive weeks ago, and now...his hands hesitated as he held the thin parchment. It was his wife's entrance that finally made him break the seal. A tall, slender woman with black curls that fell in perfect ringlets down her back, she stayed silent as he opened the missive, noting the seal and raising her brows expectantly.

The merchant's face revealed little as he scanned the short note, setting it down abruptly as he stifled an oath under his breath.

"What is it, darling?" Darra asked, crossing to him slowly with her hands folded in front of her.

"She's not there." His words were crisp, with a hint of frustration underneath.

"What do you mean 'not there'?" His wife's tone was careful, controlled.

The man folded the note, putting it back in it's envelope before putting it in his coat pocket. "They sent her to another temple, in Emelan across the Pebbled Sea."

"In Emelan? But _why_ -" She stopped, recognizing the look in her husband's eyes. "It does not say."

He did not look at her sat he sat back down, pulling out a clean sheet of paper and opening his bottle of ink. "No. Only that they forwarded my message to the appropriate people in Emelan. She is now a ward of the Winding Circle Temple. That is where we will find her. Halfway across an ocean, a trip that will take _weeks_...and it is the worst time of the year to travel by _ship_." Valden spoke the final word as a curse, which his wife ignored.

Darra hesitated, watching as he began to write, then nodded firmly. "We do what we must. How soon can we leave?"

-090-

Author's Note: I hope you have enjoyed the only chapter in this story that is less than 15 pages long. Most average in the mid-20's. Please leave a review to let me know what you think!

~CB


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Tris eyed the clay pots carefully through blue-lensed spectacles, inspecting each with the utmost attention to detail and discarding any that held even a hint of a crack or chip. The potter watched her closely, as always; the weather witch came around at least once a month to buy pots of various sizes and always seemed to get the best price from him no matter what he did. The bargaining began as soon as her purchases were set aside, and before long, coins changed hands, the price once more in the favor of the customer rather than the seller. Carefully, the purchased pots were crated up and set in the back of her cart, the donkey giving a quiet complaint when Tris urged it back into the slow moving traffic. Despite this, the pot merchant looked pleased; she would only purchase his pots for her brother, a famous plant mage, and that fact being known by others meant he sold more pottery than he would otherwise.

To the food market she went next, adding several packages of meat, flour, sugar, various vegetables, fruits and rare spices. The vendors knew her and her preferences, and there was never any pushing to purchase more than she asked for. Vendors who pushed did not get revisited. The milk, eggs and cheese arrived every morning fresh at the front door, and either she or the cook selected what they would need for the day. Daja met up with her just as the road merged with the one their house was on, bearing a bundle slung over her shoulder and two more in her arms.

"My orders arrived," the smith mage said as she set them in the back, noting the way the winds frisked around the cart possessively. Any thief would be met with a quick rebuff, and most were smart enough not to try more than once. Especially since Briar had spread the word among the street kids that a second attempt would earn a sharp shock. "Where's the boy? I thought he was coming with you."

 _We've got a bad case of mites in the garden_ Briar said 'through' Tris, their minds clearly linked together as the weather witch's eyes showed a greenish cast. _The weather the last few days was just perfect to set up for a bad infestation, I need to stop it now, or it'll be a lot harder to get rid of. But I been payin' attention. I probably won't get as good a price, but I can do the shopping just fine._

"He knows better than to poke around," Tris said when Daja raised one brow slightly, tapping a finger to her temple. "Trespassing means a lightning shock, and apparently, it's more painful through our bond than in person." They rarely linked that deeply anymore, even with their circle reforged, as it often allowed things they would still rather keep to themselves to be shared with the others. Leave it to Tris to have found a way to protect herself even then.

 _Yeah…sparky-zap is really not fun._

"When are you leaving?" Daja asked, letting the matter go as their home came in sight.

"A week, probably," her sister replied as she carefully guided the cart through the city traffic. "Sandry invited us to dinner with the Duke and everyone from Winding Circle in a few days, since I won't be home for my birthday."

"And why are you going back to Lightsbridge again?" The weather mage noted the carefully innocent tone, as she was meant to. They had repeated this conversation many times, even if the question itself was phrased differently each time. Her response stayed the same.

"To study under a great mage who specializes in the area of research and non magical science," Tris explained patiently. "It's not for another certification merely something I find very interesting, and I'll only be gone for about a year."

Daja hadn't expected the answer to change so much as hoped. Sighing, she put a hand on Tris' shoulder and squeezed gently. "Okay, then, if you're sure this is what you want."

Tris rolled her eyes behind round lenses but briefly put a hand over her sister's. Physical displays of affection in public had always made her uneasy, and from her, it was as good as a hug. Her reply was more sarcastic than sincere, though. "What I want is to be normal every once in awhile."

 _Nah, that'd be boring. See you girls at dinner._

The weather mage's eyes seemed to lose their green tint, their foster brother's presence quickly receding in the direction of the garden as they pulled in the drive of their three story manse. The serving man, Rod, helped Tris unload the packages and carry them into the kitchen as Daja took care of the donkey and left the beast in his stall with plenty of fresh hay and water. The cart she moved back beside the small stable under a low overhang, the harness cleaned and hung up neatly on its pegs.

To the forge, the smith mage went with her packages, but the hours flew by until it was dinner time, and they were once more together with their missing sister as well.

Briar and Tris occupied one side of the table, Sandry and Daja on the other. The talk was light, as were their hearts, with as much being said by the mind as it was with the voice.

"Pass the bread, and the leeks and the carrots," the ex-thief said around a mouthful of chicken.

 _Greedy._

 _You'd think he never eats._

The girls all chuckled as the disgruntled plant mage served himself hearty portions of all three. "I've been working hard," he defended himself grumpily.

"You're finally putting on some weight again," Sandry commented, turning her head to the side slightly. "You were so skinny before…"

 _The ladies didn't seem to mind it…_ Briar commented, his mouth stuffed to the brim as he shoveled the leeks and eggs down his throat. He had manners that he could use, when he chose to. Tonight acting like he was still fresh off the street was more in response to them nit-picking him more than anything else.

"I don't care what you do with whom, but I don't ever want to know about it," Daja said firmly, waving her fork in his direction. "Your business is your own; keep it that way."

 _I was just saying…_

"Back on the topic of clothes," Sandry broke in with a businesslike look. She had already made certain that her siblings staying in Emelan would be provided for, which left only the stubborn weather witch. "I know you won't be around, Tris, but I could still make you some new gowns for winter and have them sent over as long as your size doesn't change." Realizing the irony in that statement, she amended, "More than usual, anyways."

It had taken time to accept the fact that Tris' weight would never be a consistent thing. Her magic could burn through several pounds in a week, if she used it, especially her braids, and once she had tried to keep it off rather than allow it to come back naturally. What she had not realized at the time was that refusing to allow her body to build up fat stores had meant it only had her muscle to eat through when she needed to perform a large feat of magical strength again. She hadn't planned on using half her braids at the time, but she also hadn't planned on a canyon wall trying to crush them in a minor earthquake. The result had been months of recovering and physical healing and a hard lesson learned. Magic has a price, and hers was directly paid from her body. More than the wrinkle and stain resistant fabric her sister wove, Tris appreciated the way Sandry now tailored the clothes to look right over a rather wide range of sizes, knowing her weight could fluctuate by 20 or 30 lbs in a matter of weeks and occasionally days.

"You've already given me plenty," the weather witch replied, setting aside her utensils as she finished her meal and prepared to undertake the old argument. "I do not need so many clothes."

"But I enjoy making them!"

 _Here they go…_ Briar murmured to Daja, who was politely ignoring them as she immersed herself in her hot tea. A caravan had passed through Summer Sea last month, and she intended to enjoy their present of a brick of real Trader tea until it was gone.

Tris' sharp glance let him known it hadn't been as quiet as he thought. "Then make clothes for someone who needs them. Mila, Sandry, there are children on the streets who don't even have a single decent shirt…"

"You know I donate several pieces every year to multiple charities in the city," her sister responded as the familiar argument ran its course. "Besides, how can I provide for others when you won't let me provide for you?"

"I am well provided for already, Sandry."

"Just a few gowns, Tris, you need some more color in your clothes."

 _How long do you think they'll go at it?_ Briar asked Daja with a smirk.

 _Not too much longer, my money's on Tris. Sandry's been looking over tax accounts all day._

 _Ah._

Five minutes later the stitch witch had backed off, for the moment, and Tris enjoyed the raspberry tart they had for dessert with a singularly satisfied smile.

 _Who bet on who?_ Tris inquired curiously when she noticed Briar passing half his dessert to their resident smith mage.

 _She called you first._ Briar grumped with a shrug. _I could've sworn it was about time for Duchess to win for a change…_

 _Tax time._ Tris and Daja chorused together, exchanging bemused smiles after they did.

"You can stop talking about me now," Sandry sighed, giving Briar the rest of her tart with a frown. Raspberry wasn't her favorite to begin with and losing diminished her appetite even more. "It's not as if I can't hear you."

"You'll bully her into it next time," Daja consoled her sister teasingly. "You've got a whole year to get ready for it, too."

"Yes, because I will be defenseless in a year's time," Tris muttered, rolling her eyes as Chime glided into the room and landed on her shoulder. "Had enough to eat?"

The glass dragon tinkled back at her in soft tones, giving a short nod of its head. Her belly bulged with coloring agents and nitre.

"You know, sometimes, I think she really understands what we're saying," Daja mused, running a finger along the creature's neck when she gracefully winged down to the table. Chime purred in pleasure, the glass-like tones ululating gently through the room.

"I think she does," Sandry agreed, petting the odd creature as well.

"At least enough to know when we're not happy about her poking her snout in our stores of supplies," Briar added with a smirk. Chime turned towards him with a look of pure affront, and he laughed lightly. "Oh, don't look at me like that; you're still lovely either way."

The dragon seemed satisfied with that and turned her attentions back to those caressing her lithe body.

"I hate to leave her behind, but there's no good explanation I can give for her presence," the weather mage murmured as she watched Chime sadly.

"You'll have to dye your hair again," Briar teased her, tugging one coppered curl at the base of her neck with a wink. "Black, wasn't it?"

She made a face, wrinkling her nose as she did. "That's probably the worst part of the whole experience. I'm already pale enough as it is; the darker hair makes me look like death warmed over." She pretended not to notice when he stole the last bite of tart from her plate, having already finished his own and Sandry's.

Daja laughed and told her it would serve her right for leaving them again. Tris muttered something about selfish siblings under her breath, and Sandry just smiled and told her she would be more than happy to make her a gown to go along with her new black hair. Briar seemed content to sit back and let them go at it, smirking occasionally and keeping out of it for the most part. He knew better than to draw their attention when it came to clothes. He always accepted Sandry's gifts. It was easier that way, but rarely wore the fanciest of them. Fancy clothes didn't belong in a garden, when you were going to do work, and he had plenty of old comfortable clothes for that. Plants didn't care how patched your knees were.

A week later, the scenario was much the same; except, it was around the Duke's table in his smaller dining room, and their teachers had joined them to send Tris off. Her ship was to leave early the next morning and only Daja and Briar would be present to see her aboard. The rest bid her a fond farewell that night, and amid the hugs, hidden tears, and threats to hang her in a well if she didn't come back or take proper care of herself, there was a peace knowing her family accepted her as she was. Niko, again, tried to press her to accept an invitation to stay with an old friend of his during her year of study, and again, she declined. Staying somewhere other than the student district or dormitories would make her stand out, which was the last thing she wanted.

The ride home was silent, all three leading their horses side by side through the relatively empty streets all the way to their home on Cheesemen Street. To bed they went, Tris promising once more she would wake them, if they did not wake themselves, so she wouldn't be at the docks by herself. The dark passed quickly, though, and soon, a bleary eyed Briar was stumbling into the kitchen and gulping down the scalding cup of tea Tris shoved in his hands with a mutter of thanks.

"You'd think a plant mage would rise with the sun," Daja teased, looking only slightly more awake as she finished tying up her boots and sent Rod out to ready the cart and donkey.

"I like my sleep," Briar grumbled to himself. "What's wrong with that?" The tattoos on his hands, reflecting his mood, kept its flowers tightly closed among the shifting vines and leaves.

"Get your shoes on, or we're leaving you here," Tris said, giving him a gentle shove back towards his room and heading for her own to grab the last of her bags. She heard a shout in the courtyard as she went up the stairs, and a stray breeze brought her a glimpse of her foster sister seated on her mare outside. Rolling her eyes, she had told Sandry not to bother making the ride out, Tris just continued on her way and came back downstairs when she was sure she had everything she needed.

 _Tris!_

The weather mage rolled her eyes again. _Coming._

"I told you not to make the ride out," she said in a scolding tone as she descended to the ground floor. "You have so much to do at the Citadel…"

"There's…been a message, Tris," Sandry broke in, shoving a letter in her hands. "Uncle's already sent for Niko and the others, and a lawyer to see just how binding it is. There's only a month, but I'm sure we can find something…"

"Slow down and say that again," Briar broke in, clearly puzzled as he and Daja came up on either side of the weather mage. "What's this about a lawyer? Coppercurls hasn't done anything wrong."

"At least not since Namorn," Daja added with a wry grin. "But all of us were involved in that."

"She didn't do anything," Sandry explained, fidgeting with the riding gloves in her hands nervously as she watched their red-headed sibling turn white as a sheet. "Tris…?"

"This…can't be right. They're coming," she whispered hoarsely, the letter crumpling in her hands as she blinked furiously.

"Who's coming?" Briar replied, putting a careful hand on her shoulder.

"My parents."

-090-

The four mages gathered with their teachers, Duke Verdis, the Honored Moonstream, and a lawyer versed in Ninverian law in the dining area of their home, chairs crammed around the table, while the staff working themselves into a frenzy to fill a glass for everyone and provide light refreshments on the side. It was almost noon by the time everyone had managed to gather. Tris was anchored on either side by Daja and Briar, and Sandry sat across the way by her uncle, reading a thick sheaf of papers over his shoulder. By the look in her eyes, things did not bode well.

"Thank you for gathering with such speed; there is much to discuss and little time to discuss it in," the Duke said as he rose to his feet. "To bring everyone up to speed, we shall read aloud the letter, and then the contract itself." He motioned to Tris, though the weather mage remained silent and still. Briar gently disentangled the paper from her nerveless hands, handing it to Daja who cleared her throat as she stood.

" _To the Head Dedicate of Stone Circle Temple, and all those whom this may concern:_

 _Our daughter Trisana Chandler was left in your care nine years ago. The time has come, with her twentieth birthday approaching this summer, for us to come and meet our child to see what has become of her, as is stated in the contract signed by the Honored Sunstrike of the Broken Circle Temple. We have included with this letter a copy of the contract we have, in case your own has been misplaced. We wish to hear from you within the moon as to the whereabouts and condition of our daughter, so if it is possible, we may begin the process of reclaiming her with all due speed. We are aware, given her previous diagnosis, that this may take some time and are willing to put in the time necessary to make this transition for her as smooth as possible._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Valden Chandler_

"Which seems clear enough to me," the lawyer interjected calmly. "They are coming, and you must hand the young woman in question over to them."

Sandry flew to her feet, eyes flashing as the tablecloth shifted nervously before her. "They may _not_ have her!"

"Unfortunately, they can take her, and there is little you can do about it," the lawyer said dryly as he stood as well. "By your leave, Duke Verdis…?"

"Please do," the older man replied, pulling his niece back into her seat gently.

"The contract reads as thus," the lawyer said firmly, his voice easily carrying to all those in the room. "The Honored Dedicate Wrenwing agreed upon the 21st day of the Harvest Moon that the Stone Circle Temple would have full control over the raising and care of Trisana Chandler for an unknown paid sum until the day of her twentieth birthday at which time the Chandler family may reclaim her as they desire. No further contact is to occur between parents and child until such time."

"Is there more?" asked Daja, leaning back in her chair as she ran one hand over the head of her staff, and her eyes glittered dangerously.

"Yes, there is one added clause," the lawyer replied carefully. "The temple and Trisana Chandler are released from the contract if the young lady decides to take the temple vows, marries a man with the consent of whoever is the holder of the contract, or dies before the day the meeting is to occur."

"How has this gone unnoticed for so long?" Niko's voice was deceptively soft, and the lawyer shifted nervously as he met the famous mage's steel gaze.

Shuffling his papers, the man replied, "With her previous diagnosis of possession or not being entirely human, it is likely the Stone Circle officials doubted the issue would ever come to light. I have looked over the evaluations that were originally done on her and were sent with the letter and a copy of the contract from the temple. It is likely, given their opinions of her mental state, they assumed she would be dead or mad long before such a time. And since Winding Circle Temple did not inform them of their mistake, it was not until a letter arrived from the young woman's parents inquiring as to her whereabouts that it resurfaced again. We have not heard from Stone Circle regarding this matter, but I doubt anything they say will change the contract in the least. The Chandlers are a well-respected and wealthy merchant family; they would not have needed to resort to illegal means to achieve this end."

Lark glanced at the head of her temple as she laid a hand on the too still Rosethorn's arm. "She is in another country, now; surely, you can't…"

"The temple must uphold any contract it signs, even one as foolish as this," Moonstream replied, mouth twisted in a dissatisfied frown. "The terms are clearly set; there is no way around them. Unless, Honored Dedicate Wrenwing was threatened or forced into this somehow, and I doubt that was the case, the contract stands."

"And she has never applied for citizenship in Emelan, so technically, she is still subject to the laws of the Capchen government as a native born citizen," the Duke replied slowly. "There, a young woman is considered to be under the governance of her family, guardian or husband until her twenty-first year of age. We cannot give her sanctuary beyond that of provisional guardianship as such. Guardianship that the contract clearly revokes upon her parents' arrival on, at the latest, her 20th birthday."

"Then we work with what we have," Briar insisted stubbornly. "Couldn't Tris take vows for awhile and leave again after the year is over?"

"The gods are not to be toyed with; I could never allow such a thing to occur," Moonstream replied firmly. "If Miss Chandler wishes to devote herself to the temple under a particular god or goddess, we will welcome her with open arms. But a farcical display of such cannot be tolerated. Vows are for life."

"Death is not an option," Daja stated simply with a shrug. "Though perhaps if we were to fake it…couldn't we simply hide her away for the next year?"

"And how do we explain her sudden disappearance?" asked the Duke carefully. "Ninver, let alone Caphen, is powerful enough to demand answers of us, if the Chandlers decide to get them involved, and the Temple is bound to the truth just as much as I am. Even Nikolaren Goldeye must bow before the laws of the Mage Council and submit true testimony, if asked. Should the four of you decide to escape together, it is likely you would not be able to return for a very, very long time. And that does not include the potential political ramifications of such an action. Even after your return, you four would no longer be trusted, and perhaps, even be censured by the Mage Council for your actions."

"Lark, Frostpine and I could not help you with such an escape, either," Rosethorn added softly. "We are bound by the law as much as Niko and the Duke. And might perhaps even be charged with finding you, knowing your magic the best, as we do. There can be no order without law, and you are not above those laws, no matter how powerful you four are."

"What about the mage council, then?" Daja asked quickly. "Doesn't our status as an accredited mage also grant us status as adults?"

"No, it grants you the responsibility to act like an adult with your magic," Niko replied softly. "I have already looked into it, and it will not hold. Getting your medal does not also give you full status as an adult in any city or country the Mage Councils exist in. Likely, because most people do not attain that status until well after reaching the age of adulthood in their homeland. Without a precedent, I am afraid it will not do."

"And why can't we set the precedent?" Briar looked to the lawyer as he said this, but the man was already shaking his head.

"Since the acquisition of your medals, it is clear that, while you have all acted with great responsibility for the most part with your abilities, the Mage Council itself has still treated you as children. Even in your trip to Namorn, which Master Goldeye and I discussed at length, it is obvious that you did not face the legal repercussions you likely would have had they considered you full adults for some of your actions there. Actions that, I also understand, you likely would not have had to take had you been treated as adults and not as partially grown children. Can any of you deny this? You are able, when the situation requires it, to use your medals to force others to listen to you. Somewhat. But only in the very recent past has the mage community as a whole begun to recognize you as fully qualified members. Because such was not the case from the beginning, we cannot build upon it now."

"What about seeking sanctuary from an abusive situation?" asked Sandry quickly, ignoring the scowl Tris sent her way. Few knew of her scars, and she wished to keep it that way, but Sandry decided Tris' pride could stuff it in the face of the current need. "Couldn't the temple have grounds to protect her then?"

Moonstream's mouth tightened, but again she shook her head. "We have no written record of mistreatment from before she was given over to our care, and no attempt made to prosecute those responsible when she first came into our care. Trying to put together a case now makes the accusation look like something put together simply to protest this contract, which it would be. There is no magistrate in Emelan who would negate the contract on such terms, especially against such a powerful family without significant proof."

"Tris?" asked Briar, the plant mage having watched his silent sister from the start. She flinched involuntarily when he laid a vine-covered hand over hers. "Are you…?"

"I need to go meditate," she said as she quickly rose to her feet, jerking her hand free before retreating down the hall and up the stairs ahead of any protests.

"I'll go with her," Briar offered, jumping to his feet quickly. "You guys keep thinking, we'll be back in a bit."

"I don't know what you're hoping to find," the lawyer said, putting his books and the contract aside. "The Chandlers were very thorough, your options are clear. Death or vows, be it to a deity or a man. Surely, there's a likely lad you could hurry things along with...?"

"Tris has no suitors," Daja replied flatly after the room fell uncomfortably silent for a moment. "She is a very…unique individual."

"There is always a way out," Sandry broke in, clearly frustrated as she motioned to the contract and the tablecloth slid it towards her obligingly. "Our sister will remain with us, and it will be on our terms. Perhaps, there is something in the Ninver laws regarding such contracts, so let's keep looking."

-090-

"So, how're you feeling?" asked Briar when he finally located his foster sibling on her balcony overlooking the gardens in the back. It was midmorning now, and the sun shone brightly with a pleasant breeze. She stared miserably into the distance, bracing herself against the railing. The look she gave him was enough to make him chuckle weakly. "Ah, silly question, right?"

"I want to wake up and find this to be a horrible nightmare," she whispered hoarsely. "For years, I dreamed of being accepted by my parents or any of my family, really. I had given up hope until I was brought to Winding Circle. There I found a new family." She gave him a weak smile when he put his hand over hers, watching purple and blue flowers blossom to life along his knuckles. "A better one. But now…"

"They set it up so you couldn't find them until they thought you would be of use again," Briar pointed out dryly. "I don't consider that being accepted, I'd call it being used."

"They may have changed," she mused, eyes taking on a calculating look. Briar snorted, and she glared at him. "I'm trying to be positive about this, Briar."

"Why?" he replied, calmly settling beside her on the railing. "We'll find a way around this. We always do."

"If a Chandler wrote that contract, then the only ways out are the ones listed on that paper," she said, her voice even and low. "I won't kill myself, that's a coward's way out, and I won't run away and risk damaging the reputations of those who have helped me over the years. The temple I might survive for awhile, but I am not meant to be a dedicate any more than you. I would resent it far longer than I would be grateful for the protection it afforded me. I don't want to live my life in regret."

Briar had to force his voice to be casual as he asked, "What about getting married?" As a general topic of discussion, many of their conversations on this topic had ended in either Tris teasingly telling him the girl was not going to marry him or him saying marriage was impractical for mages even though he didn't really believe it. When she agreed, he knew it was because she believed she would never find someone to marry, regardless. Given her current track record of suitors, he found it hard to argue with her sometimes.

"If I thought I had a decent chance with a tolerable man I would accept it," she admitted with a shrug. "Living together for a year could be done, I'd even consider paying someone to play the part, the problem is I have no such man. Even the mages we know here in Emelan who are close to our age...they're more than wary of me. And a non-mage...there is too much they wouldn't understand. Kethlun might have agreed to it; he's a lightning mage now, too, and he understands. Only, he's not here."

"Not even that Dunlan fellow you told me about awhile back?" he asked, his voice just a hint too sweet. Truth be told, he usually never teased her about men; it was too sore a subject. Something about having her former student mentioned as an option pricked painfully, and he couldn't help the bit of spite in his words. "I thought he was all but courting you."

She smacked his shoulder, weakly, but he pretended it hurt, nonetheless. A tongue was stuck out in return, and he smiled. "Someone let my full name slip to him, and he said he couldn't handle knowing his someday wife could tie up storms in her hair. We haven't spoken since."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that…" Innocence never suited him well, and he knew it.

Tris snorted in a most unladylike fashion, but she was smiling with her eyes as well as her lips now. "Don't lie, Briar, you didn't like him from the moment I said he was a son of a bag."

"He did sound a little…feminine…" The fussy pose he adopted was meant to entertain, and it did. She even laughed when he kept going in a fair mimicry of a snooty matron, nose high in the air and chin held sharply to the side sniffing loudly in disapproval. He really had an eye for mimicking the stance and facial expressions of someone, when he wanted to.

"Briar…" She trailed off, inspecting her nail-bitten hands carefully. The smile was gone, but the sadness didn't return. He still counted that a victory. "I've made my decision."

He seemed to pause, ready to argue, then nodded once. "Why don't you go down to the garden, read a bit in the shade? The others can wait an hour or two; they won't want to listen until then, anyways."

"What? That's it?" she replied, honestly surprised by his lack of reaction. "I'm almost disappointed."

"Are you sure of your decision?" he asked.

"No," Tris admitted. "But I don't know what else to do."

"Go," he said, pushing her towards the steps that led directly to the yard below, where the breeze ruffled the bushes and flowers invitingly. The lavender was in bloom, and he knew by now the scent would have perfumed the air nicely. Tris liked the smell of lavender. "I'll keep them off your back for a bit."

"Thank you."

Briar was still standing there when he saw his copper-haired sibling settle herself beneath the largest tree in their fenced in yard, and he smiled. It disappeared, though, when a familiar presence came beside him.

"She's made her choice," he said as Rosethorn leaned on the railing next to him where Tris had been only moments before. "What have the others found?"

"Nothing good," his teacher replied with the stolid flatness she usually reserved for unpleasant duties. "The Chandler family, it seems, works like most merchant families do, there is one head of the family who makes most of the important decisions. Should the old head have been alive, the Duke and Temple might be able to convince him that such a venture as trying to reclaim their 'lost' daughter could be too costly. However, he died and named Tris's father, Valden, as his successor. Apparently, he is a very clever man. He has nearly tripled the worth of their various ventures since coming to the fore and gotten them into politics as well. Well connected in both the financial district and among the Ninver nobility, his potential for making trouble only grows with each new thing we learn. Verdis did point out that the man is known not only for his honesty, for a merchant, but also for his ability to turn a profit on almost anything."

"Is that all?" he asked, clearly upset.

"Unfortunately, no." Rosethorn ran a hand over her face, sighing as she did. "Niko looked into her future, boy, and could make nothing out, good or bad. That is not unusual, of course, but considering he did not peer very far… it concerns us that even the next month before her is so uncertain." Silence fell between them, though she glanced at him, noting the way his fingers drummed against the rail and his teeth worried his lower lip. Black and white buds bloomed and died away as he struggled with something inside that his teacher couldn't see. "Briar…?"

"It would be worth it, if only to keep her with us," he replied slowly, meeting the shorter dedicate's gaze firmly. "Where is Niko?"

"Downstairs," she replied, nodding slowly as she caught on to the idea brewing in his eyes. "Go, I'll keep an eye on her for you."

"Thank you."

"Briar," she said, her words pausing his footsteps. "You may lose a sister, if you do this."

"Daja and Sandry will see the wisdom of it, eventually, even if it does make things awkward for a time," he said, disappearing downstairs.

The old plant mage shook her head slowly, watching the red-headed woman as she shifted on the grass beneath the tree. "It wasn't them I was worried about…"

-090-

Tris sat on her balcony as the moon rose in the star speckled sky, mulling over the last few hours as she nursed a mug of tepid tea. Sandry had argued, Daja had glared, but in the end they had relented to her insistence. One by one, the rest had given in as well. The lawyer had congratulated her on being sensible before taking his leave quickly. Rosethorn had been silent, her face an unreadable mask, and Niko unusually introspective, but she had no illusions that this would be easy for them.

In a matter of weeks, her parents would come for her, and for the next year, she would go with them and obey as she must. It was the only way to satisfy the contract and still keep the honor of all involved.

 _Coppercurls?_

 _You can come in,_ she replied, absently toying with one of the lightning braids as she listened to him make his way through her dark study.

"Daja thought you might be hungry since you never came down to eat," he said as he set a tray beside her with a covered plate, a fresh mug of tea, and a small box. She glanced at the tray more out of habit than actual desire. Despite missing a meal, her stomach felt full of lead. The odd object out caught her eye, though, and her hand paused over it hesitantly.

"What is this?" she asked, tapping the cube-like container.

"My decision," he replied. "You can say no, if you really want to, but I will do whatever it takes to keep you with us."

Tris's eyes wandered from his face, to the box and back again. "Briar, what are you…?"

"I already said it; I'm making my decision," he said, kneeling down beside her and picking up the box when she made no move towards it. Placing it in one nail-bitten hand, he cupped the other around it and pulled off the lid. Moonlight glinted off of something shiny, and her breath caught.

"Briar, this is a very poor joke."

"I'm dead serious."

"I can't marry my brother!"

"That's just it, though," he said softly. "I'm not really your brother, not in the way it matters for this."

Inside, nestled among the soft velvet folds, was a traditional Capchenian marriage collar with a glass pendent hanging from the middle. The collar itself was made of a dark gray metal in flat links the width of her thumb, plain but beautifully made. Polished to a high sheen, it glinted brightly in her hands as she moved to inspect the pendant itself. The stone was a dark green, well cut to reflect the light and shine with an inner brightness. On one side, it was inscribed with the rune for love, the other protection.

"This is…"

"The one you picked out before, right?" he said, his grin becoming quite self satisfied as he moved to put it around her neck. "Didn't think I'd remember, did ya?"

Tris let him as she remembered the day Sandry had insisted the four of them go shopping together for her Uncle's birthday and dragged them through Emelan's best jewelry shop along the way. The excited stitch-witch had pointed out some of her favorites among the engagement rings Emelan was known for, then asked for the other's opinions as well. Daja had pointed out that Traders exchanged bracelets for their ceremony, and Briar had shrugged and said all the glitter looked pretty much the same to him. Sandry had then turned to the weather witch, remembering that Capchen customs were different than those of Emelan, and dragged her to the corner that hosted a few such collars. Tris had never actually picked one, but her eyes had been drawn to the dark gray collar for several moments. Briar had teased her that he would remember to tell the fellow she was going to marry about it some day.

"The others approved?" she asked, her voice a breathless squeak.

"They'd rather see you stuck with me than ever hand you back to your family," he replied with a cheeky grin. "Like you said, living one year with another person is doable. This way you don't even have to move, and everybody stays happy."

"Briar…" she flushed, looking down at her hands. "What about…for appearances sake…?"

"Niko explained that to me," he admitted dryly. "Not that it hadn't already occurred to me, I'm not an idiot. I won't say I'll enjoy being celibate for a year, but I can do it for your sake. We'll have to share a room and a bed; I'm not giving your family a single cause for complaint, but it's not like we haven't before. All four of us, for that matter."

"I don't think all four of us would fit in the same bed anymore," she snorted, remembering the nights when the nightmares would visit them all. Visions of dead pirates, a flaming forest, the earthquake and their Teacher dying flooding their minds. Together, they would huddle in usually Tris's bed, the weather witch too stubborn to admit she needed help. With Sandry's light and the comfort of their combined presences, the rest of the night would pass with peaceful dreams and undisturbed sleep.

"It's a good thing it'll just be two of us, then," he replied lightly. "So, is that a yes?"

"I don't want you to put yourself through this for my sake," she argued, refusing to meet his gaze as she reached up to remove the collar. "It's not fair for me to ask that of you…"

His hands gently stopped hers, wrapping firm, calloused hands around each wrist. "So you'd pay some random guy or ask your student to marry you, but you won't marry me. I'm that unappealing, am I?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, but his smile couldn't entirely hide the hurt in his words.

Tris turned bright red. "No! No, I just...I didn't mean-" Abruptly, she swallowed whatever she had been about to say. Instead, she sighed, "Briar, I can't accept..."

"I left you behind once because it wasn't you they were really after," he said as he drew her hands back down to her lap. "It was one of the hardest things I've ever done in my life, but there wasn't a better choice. This time there is, and I'm making it. Will you or will you not marry me, Trisana Chandler?"

-090-

Author's Note(s):

I saved this for the end of the first chapter as I didn't want to have a chapter that was more author's note than story content. It just feels unprofessional to me. However, I did feel like there were a few important things to mention before we got too far in this story.

First up: The rating. This may or may not venture into solid 'M' territory by the end. It is, at the very least, going to be a very strong PG-13. To err on the side of caution, I am making the rating M. Don't like it? Don't read it.

Second: If you're quick of eye, you noticed that there's already 20 some chapters in various states of completion that I mentioned previously. Am I going to spam post them? No. But in the words of the wise Sea Folk: Let's make a Bargain. Read more below.

Third: I will reply to all signed reviews by PM this time around. I will not include review replies to unsigned reviews at the end of each chapter. Want a reply? Sign in. Don't have an account? Get one. It's free and easy.

Fourth: I do have a Beta. Any mistakes that make it past both of us I apologize for in advance. No am I not looking to replace my Beta, we've been writing together for over a decade and there is nothing you can say to convince me to switch to you. Sorry.

Fifth: There isn't a fifth. I just like the word 'fifth'. It is fun to say and spell.

The Bargain: This is not a slapped together story. It is the work of years, set aside and brought out again multiple times as I honed my ideas and writing ability for the best possible result. The chapters average 25 pages, and the story will probably end around 25-30 chapters in length. This final push to complete it is the result of suddenly having hours of time that I couldn't use constructively dumped in my lap. Lucky for you guys, I guess. So, this is the deal. Every week, on Friday, I will post a chapter. "But CB," you might say, "That means I'll have to wait half a year to finish this story!" Yes, that is true. Which is where your part comes in. At the end of every chapter, I will set a review goal. If that chapter meets the review goal, I will immediately post the next chapter if it is complete. However, I do have a few rules.

Each review needs to be an actual review. As in, you need to tell me at least one specific thing you liked about the story. 'It was good, post more' will not cut it. If I can spend weeks on a chapter, you can spend five minutes giving me your actual thoughts in complete sentences. I won't judge spelling and grammar, but an effort needs to be made. Spam reviews will also not count. As in, if you write a nice review and then post it five times, it will not count as five reviews. It will count as one.

I think that's everything. I hope you all enjoyed, and I look forward to posting the next chapter for you all soon (get reviewing, hinthint!).

~CB~

Review Goal for Chapter 2: 30


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Daja walked into the kitchen at dawn as usual, finding Tris already there chatting with cook as they prepared the porridge and eggs together. Spotting the collar, she smiled, but contented herself with just giving the weather witch a pat on the back.

 _I'm glad you changed your mind_ she said, catching Tris's eye as she poured herself some coffee. _Did you decide when?_

 _In four days. Apparently, they've got everything already planned out, I wonder if they wouldn't have tied me up and dragged me to the altar if I had refused._

 _I will neither deny nor confirm that there may or may not have been a plot detailing thus should a refusal have occurred…_

"Daja!"

The Trader hugged her sister tight around the shoulders and planted a quick kiss on her forehead. "I'm just kidding, Tris."

The weather witch grumpily accepted the affectionate gesture and muttered, "I'm not sure I believe you…"

"Tris?" came a young voice, Glaki peaking in the kitchen as Rosethorn appeared behind her. The Dedicate had decided to return to help with the preparations as Briar's teacher, and Glaki had begged to come along when she heard Briar and Tris were to be wed. To her, it was a dream come true, and a very romantic idea as the adults hadn't informed her of the reason why. In her mind, Briar was only eclipsed in perfection by Kethlun, and she was thrilled her Tris was going to marry him. Little Glaki was not so little anymore, of course, and the redhead had to brace herself against the ten-year-old's fierce hug.

"Thank you," Rosethorn murmured as a mug of steaming tea was thrust into her hands. Niko appeared as well a few moments later, looking entirely too well-groomed and awake for the early hour with a just as bright Sandry trailing in his wake. The cook had retreated from her usual domain after laying out everything for coffee, tea and a light repast of fresh fruit, some rolls with sausage baked in the middle, and sweet buns still steaming from the oven.

Briar finally wandered in at the tail end of the meal, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and tucking his shirt in enough to be decent.

"We've got a lot to do," Sandry said as he took the remaining seat across from Tris and dug into the porridge and eggs set in front of him. "Uncle has agreed to officiate the marriage, and the ceremony will be in the gardens of the citadel and the meal there afterwards. There's several important people I think we should invite to give testimony to the fact it has occurred, highly ranked dedicates and officials, wealthy merchants and that sort, but on the whole, it will be a small and private affair. You shall both be getting a new suit of clothes for it, of course…"

Briar, who had both been letting his mind wander, sat up and cried, "What?" as Tris jerked her head up with a frown from her quiet conversation with Glaki.

"Please, do you honestly believe I would let any sibling of mine get married in regular clothes?" Sandry asked, putting her nose up ever so slightly. "No, I'll get fresh measurements from both of you this morning, and I already have a good idea of what patterns I'll use…"

"We agreed you could plan out the ceremony," Briar broke in as he slathered his sweet bun in jelly. "But I don't remember asking you to stick your neb in that part of my business."

"That's because you didn't; I decided to stick my 'neb' in all on my own." Sandry smiled sweetly, holding up her hands when they both began to protest. "Wait, wait, let me explain something. The ceremony will be short and official, but it is important that no expense is spared. The Chandlers will be given no chance to complain over the way we have treated the daughter they so foolishly cast away."

"What? Are we going to hand them the bill at the end to show how much money was spent?" Briar snorted, rolling his eyes.

"No, but by the monetary support we lend, we show that you and Tris and this marriage are supported not only by myself but also by my uncle, who is not a man to be trifled with. Anyone invited will know that just by looking at wedding itself, and they will talk as people always do." Sandry's lecturing tone turned a bit smug as she went on, "Talk that will spread, eventually, to your parents, and if they are not impressed even by a second-hand account of what I have planned, then they will not be impressed no matter what we do. We will present a united front in every way, and the more we show the Chandlers we will do what we can to keep her here, the sooner they will hopefully leave us alone."

"And that's it," Niko said, closing the discussion with that simple phrase. "Now, I will arrange all of the paperwork, and I will require your presence for a short while, Briar. Tris, go with Sandry to get your dress started, and then you and I will meet later this afternoon to discuss a few other things."

"I'll be in my forge, if someone needs me," Daja said as she got up from the table, finishing her juice quickly. Her part had already been decided, and the items needed were not going to smith themselves.

"And you're with me," Rosethorn said, putting a hand on Glaki's shoulder. "Briar, we're using your workroom."

"Yeah, I know."

-090-

Briar sat across from Niko in the small office they all used to keep the household records in, frowning as he listened to what the older mage was saying.

"Bride price," he repeated slowly. "You mentioned it yesterday, but I've only heard of it once or twice."

Niko nodded, and elaborated with, "Capchen is the birthplace of merchants and Ninver its capital, so it isn't hard to think that the men of that land would sell their daughters to the men who want to marry them."

The thief shrugged and settled back in his chair, noting the stacks of paper Niko was pulling out from a leather folio he carried. "Let me guess: this isn't some flat fee, is it?"

"No," his old teacher agreed solemnly. "From what I understand the price is debated between the two families based upon the characteristics of the wife to be. Other members of the family can be involved, but the final word is between the father and husband to be. A well-debated bride price can take weeks or months to settle on, from what I have heard, but as we do not have that much time, we will have to work with what we have. I wish I had a copy of one to show you, they are...fascinating to read, but it is almost impossible to get your hands on one without being from the family itself. I have only seen two actual contracts myself, but-"

"Characteristics?" Briar cut in, in an attempt to keep Niko from rambling on further.

"The woman's abilities, her physical looks, talents and everything that might be of import to the marriage itself." Niko shrugged, rubbing a thin hand across his face. "This could be very important, Briar. It is one of the few things that her father can actually insist on knowing to the full extent, and if it is not completed to his satisfaction, he can take you to court over it in both cases of under and overpayment. I do know _that_ for certain."

The young man nodded as he took up the offered pen and began to write. "I don't have it in mind to give him the chance."

-090-

Tris stood on top of the block with practiced patience, her arms held out as Sandry doled out the fabric and began to pin things in place. It was a fine silk, in a lovely grey that gave her eyes a softer glow than usual and contrasted nicely with her pale skin and rouge hair. It felt strange as her sister chatted amicably with Gerundy about the bustles and frills, with silver thread and small embroidery along the trim…the fabric covering her right then was probably worth more than she would make this month. Chime's flame pendants tended to sell in waves, and she had been mostly bought out the month before. And when she thought about everything Sandry still had yet to add, it was a nice distraction, guessing how much the fabric was by the yard, how much would be needed to complete the full train her sister intended to include, the price of regular versus silver thread and how much might be needed of that…

"Tris?"

"Yes?" the weather-witch answered, coming back to the present as the numbers she had been adding in her head came to a halt.

Her sister's face was marred by the worried frown that also creased her forehead. "You do know…you do know that you're not alone in this, right?"

"I know," Tris replied with a weak smile. "I'll be alright, Sandry; you've all seen to that quite nicely."

"We're not going to just let them take you away, after we've spent all this time getting you civilized," Sandry teased gently as she put the final pin in place. "Besides, who else is going to make Briar's favorite cookies or help me organize my threads when Chime puts my basket out of order?"

"The cook knows very well how to make Briar's cookies, and Chime hasn't been in your basket for quite some time now," Tris teased back with a slight smirk. "Not since you left that surprise for her."

Sandry's smile grew at the reminder of that particularly effective prank. The beast had been contrite for almost a full week, after the stitch-witch had cut away the ball of yarn that wrapped the small beast up like a mummy. "You never know when she might forget, though, and we both know Briar likes your cookies best. He can tell the difference, you know; did he tell you the cook did a blind taste test on him?"

"Oh yes, I got quite the earful the next day from the cook. She swears I must use some special ingredient, but I follow the same recipe I gave her every time…" Tris kept all but a hint of pride out of her voice, and the smile on her lips was only slightly self-satisfied. "The boy probably peeked and is just pretending to get under her skin; he enjoys that far too much."

Sandry laughed. "Yes, he does."

-090-

Glaki sat at a work table as she carefully cut the plants Rosethorn had given her, putting the minced leaves in one pile and the leftover stems in another. Her nose wrinkled from the strong smell, but the plant mage had already explained that this particular infusion of plants was to keep the insects away during the outdoor ceremony without being a blight on anyone's nose. Glaki wanted everything perfect for the wedding, and so she cut the plants and tried not to sniff. She looked up when the door opened, her face breaking into a bright smile as Briar entered and sat across from her with a weary grin.

"Hey, kid," he said as he gave her a friendly pat on the head. She was taller than he remembered, but she hadn't gotten too big for such things quite yet.

When she rolled her eyes at him and said, "Really, Uncle Briar?" he shrugged. Or maybe she had.

He grinned apologetically, and said, "Rosie got you working hard?"

"Only Lark's allowed to call her that," Glaki pointed out with a sly grin.

Briar lowered his voice as his brows rose in the way she knew meant he was teasing. "You're not gonna tell on me, are ya?"

She smothered a giggle, and replied, "Well, Tris likes you, so I guess not…"

"Whew, that's good." The pair shared mischievous grins, and Briar picked up a knife to help the girl with her work. "Say, Glaki," he said after a few moments as a thought occurred to him. "Do you…how do you feel about me marrying Tris?"

"It's a lot of work," the black-haired girl replied. "But important because weddings are important events, and Tris' must be perfect! And Rosethorn said I could stay with Tris for the next two days, and that's a lot more than I usually get to see her."

"So…you don't mind?"

Glaki shook her head, her black hair swaying prettily with the motion. "I like you, Uncle Briar; you make my Tris happy, and she would always talk about how much trouble you would get her in as kids. I only wanna know one thing: will you take care of Tris after you get married?"

"I'll always take care of her," he replied with a warm grin. "And I won't tell her you asked me to neither because she can get prickly about that, right?"

"Right!"

"I brought you both lunch," Rosethorn said as she came in the room, bearing a tray of sandwiches in one hand and some more leaves in basket. "And some more work to do. Glaki, let Briar do the dark green ones, they have spines."

"Yes, ma'am," they chorused as she left them to it.

-090-

Tris answered Niko's summons not long after lunch, meeting him away from the house at a small inn that served a tea that they were both fond of. It was a pleasant break, being away from the bustle of the wedding preparations.

"What did you need to speak to me about?" she asked as she poured the hot water from the pot, sprinkling the leaves on top and letting it steep for a moment. An attendant came by with honey and milk, which they accepted politely.

"This marriage you're about to enter into," he replied in a low voice once the attendant had left. "I just want you to be aware of some things, Tris."

"Briar and I have already discussed the room arrangements," she replied as she fought the faint flush that rose on her cheeks. "And everything else has been taken care of, right?"

"Yes, it has, I just…" The older man cleared his throat as he visibly searched for the words that he had lost. "Tris, you're very dear to me, I just want to be sure that…nothing will happen that will damage your relationship with Briar."

"He's promised to be the perfect gentleman," she said with a hint of confusion. "And I trust him to keep his word."

"And so you should," Niko agreed quickly. "Briar has never broken your trust, and I believe never will do so of his free will. However, he is a healthy young male, and there may come a time when he may have a…bodily reaction that he cannot quite control, and I do not want you to assume the worst, if such a situation were to occur because…" The longer he went the more strained his voice got and the paler his face became as he crossed into waters he never thought he would need to discuss with his young female student.

"Niko, I've been reading books far beyond my age since I first came to Winding Circle Temple," the weather mage gently broke in after a few moments of uncomfortable silence listening to her mentor stumble along. "Several of them medical texts, when I had exhausted everything on the winds, weather and tides. I already know about most of the relations between, well…the point is I already know and I won't blame him for any….reactions he might have that he can't control." The last sentence was a rushed almost whisper that left the weather witch with crimson cheeks and downcast eyes.

"Well, that's good." Niko gave a short sigh of relief, taking a sip of his tea as the color returned to his face. "There is one other thing I wanted to mention to you, Rosethorn will be meeting with you tomorrow to be going over your traditional wifely duties."

"My…what?! With whom?"

-090-

The evening flew by in a whirl of preparations, meetings and fast decisions as the last-minute wedding event of the century came together. The Duke's citadel was modest, but his gardens were quite extensive and more than capable of containing the growing event. Invitations were made, sent out, and replies received hours later all to be catalogued by Sandry, who then worked and reworked the calculations of what was needed at the banquet afterwards. She also had charts of seating arrangements, table arrangements, food arrangements, flower arrangements and anything else that might include the word 'arrangement' and, thereby, was happily in her element telling everyone else what to do.

The next morning arrived soon enough, and Tris was met in the kitchen by the cook with a piled tray in hand and a sympathetic look. Seeing the two pots of tea, stack of sandwiches, sliced vegetables and cookies the weather witch's spirit sunk. She had hoped Niko's estimation of the length of this particular meeting to be vastly exaggerated. Apparently, it was not.

"Dedicate Rosethorn is waiting for you in the main office," the matron said quickly with a short bob. "She said she will be needing you for some time."

Tris thanked the older woman, taking the tray calmly, before walking down the hall and into the specified room.

The office was a room all of them shared and generally used when meeting with important persons of a business nature. It was tastefully furnished, everything of a high quality without being overbearing and containing enough storage space for all of their files and records.

It was also the only room on the bottom floor with a locking door that was pretty much completely sound proof. No one would disturb them until the door was opened again, and Tris was already preparing mental shields to be sure this was kept as private as possible.

Rosethorn sat in one of the two chairs by the unlit fireplace, hands drumming on the leather arms and an uncomfortable look on her face. "Come in," she said when she caught sight of her foster child. "Set the tray there…the sooner we start the sooner we can finish."

"If I can ask one question…?" Tris interrupted quietly.

"Go on," the dedicate said with a surprising amount of patience. It was hard to remember a time that Rosethorn wasn't all, well, thorns. Their second foster-mother had been stern more often than soft and gruff more often than gentle, but she cared for the quartet in her own way.

The weather witch took a deep breath before saying, "Why is this talk necessary at all, and why are you the one giving it to me?"

Rosethorn set the mug of tea she had begun to prepare aside, looking out the window that overlooked the front drive. "That is two questions, but I will answer both. I spent some time in Capchen," she admitted slowly. "Before taking up my post in Discipline Cottage, I traveled in the west for a time, learning from other mages and farmers. Vows to the temple, as you know, do not necessitate remaining in one spot forever. One of my teachers was a Capchen noble. He was not a green mage, but an academic who specialized in using magic to assist farmers specifically. His wife and I grew to be friends, and she taught me a great deal about their lands and customs during that time.

"As to why your education in this area is coming from me, instead of say Lark, well…Lark is not interested in men, and she and I agreed this talk would probably come best from another woman who is. Moonstream would have filled in, had we asked, but she does not know you as well as I and was likely to thoroughly embarrass you before the end. Yazmin was also considered, but she, like the Honored Moonstream, doesn't know you well, and we were afraid she might use examples from her past and current relationships."

Tris had a brief image of Yazmin dancing for the Duke and decided she never wanted to know anything about her relationships, past or present, ever. "Oh."

"If that answers your questions…?" Tris nodded and quickly settled herself in one of the two armchairs, while forcing her breathing into the seven-count of meditation. "Let's begin. I know you know the basics, not all of those books you carry around are strictly educational, and we covered all of that back when your moon days started years ago." Tris nodded again, already feeling the beginnings of a blush start to rise as she fought to control herself. She hadn't meditated nearly enough for this. "Good, then let's move on to the rest. One of the more irritating Capchen customs is that the mother is highly involved in her daughter or daughter-in-law's sexual life. Stories are shared, comparisons made, all information open to each other. The husband and father know this and _expect_ it. After all, how is the newly made wife with no experience supposed to be able to properly please her husband who is expected to have laid with at least a few others before this and know what the whole business is about?"

The last sentence was delivered in a wry drawl, the dedicate muttering to herself for a moment about societies where the division of sexes was ridiculous. Tris would have usually, at least, cracked a smile at her teacher's dry humor, but at the moment, she was a little busy panicking.

"I'm expected to share _details?!_ " she cried, covering her red face as she tried to breath. "But I've never….I don't even...it's purely _theoretical_!"

"Which is what I'm going to coach you through," Rosethorn broke in quickly, bringing herself back to the topic at hand as she awkwardly patted her companion on the shoulder. "It shouldn't be too hard, really, especially after reading _The Decameron_." Tris flushed even brighter. "Yes, we did notice. We discussed removing it from your possession, but Lark seemed to think it might help you overcome your shyness…"

The weather witch wished then more than ever that the floor would swallow her whole at that very moment. Especially when her teacher continued.

"Stories can be made up, and details contrived to fit what we need," Rosethorn went on, hurrying as this conversation made her as uncomfortable as it did her student. "However, the important thing is that Briar is my student, and we are very close. When it became apparent that he was not going to remain chaste, we developed a certain policy. I did not want him asking those we traveled or stayed with questions of that nature because I did not know what sort of misinformation they might feed the poor boy nor did I need him fathering any children before he was ready. Niko would have been a suitable choice, but he was with you somewhere far away, and Briar wasn't going to wait on a letter. So…I told him he could ask what he liked when we were alone. By the nature of his questions, I can say what he would or would not have…attempted with a girl with a certain degree of assurance. And your father will dig for details on Briar's end."

The weather witch had thought that when she had been doused in honey by boys teasing her that she could know no worse mortification. She had been wrong. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can," Rosethorn broke in with the firm voice that usually meant the one she was speaking to had about an acorn's chance against a squirrel of doing anything other than what she wished. "Think of it as a story, one like the many others you have read. The names are the only thing that have to relate to you, the rest is…fiction."

"Just a story," the young woman beside her breathed almost hysterically.

"Exactly." There was something about that single, solid statement that knocked Tris back into a more controlled frame of mind. This was going to be more painful that her curse-induced trip down the stairs, but at least, this had a purpose.

"Ok, where do we start?"

-090-

Briar hadn't seen Tris for most of the day but after being told she was having a talk with Rosethorn put it out of his mind and focused on whatever was in front of him. First, there were fittings, then decorating, food tasting (which was fun), ceremony wordings (less fun), signing of official documents(the least fun of all)…it was past supper by the time he stopped for awhile on his private entrance to the garden, taking strength and serenity from the many growing things around him.

A creak overhead said Tris had emerged from whatever meeting she was in and was now seated in her rocking chair on the balcony. Wondering what had taken so much of her time, he slowly ascended the steps that led straight to her third-story rooms and was a little surprised by what he found.

Tris was generally the most collected of the four of them, unwilling to lose her calm as it might potentially have disastrous effects. Right now, she was practically trailing sparks as she tried to breath evenly, face red and even her hair more frizzy than usual.

"Are you ok?" he asked, watching her jump at his unexpected presence, and then her face colored even more when she realized who it was. Quickly, she looked away, gulping heavily as she tried to collect herself once more.

Briar was about to ask again when Rosethorn called from below. "Boy, get down here now!"

"Coming!" he replied, rolling his eyes as he headed back towards the stairs. "Be right back, ok?"

She didn't reply, but in her dazed condition, he hadn't really expected one. Coming to the bottom of the steps, he spotted the older plant mage having a conversation with a few of his younger shakkans and went to stand beside her. She looked nearly as worn as his sister had, and for some reason, that made his stomach drop uncomfortably.

"What's going on?" he asked when she turned to him, face tired and eyes a touch sympathetic as she settled her hands in her sleeves.

As quickly as possible the Great Mage went over all that had transpired that morning and afternoon, from the whys to the whats and the hows that had all been a part of the many-hour conversation. Briar went from red to white and back again more times than his teacher could count and at the end felt like his stomach had somehow twisted inside out while dropping to his feet.

"You told her _that_?!" he cried, voice cracking as he tried to control the rising panic in his chest. "Rosethorn…she's my _sister_!"

"Yes, and you're getting married to her a few days," the dedicate snapped, the last of her patience finally running out. "And then her parents are coming, and _they_ are going to ask questions, lots of them. Now you have answers and so does she. You don't have to discuss this between you, but I think you should. Especially since she's probably panicking upstairs right now and could use some reassurance."

Scowling, he nearly swore until he remembered how very capable she still was of her old threat of hanging him by his toes in a well. Taking a deep breath, he settled for a tight, "Why didn't you take care of that?"

"She's not marrying me, you lunk," she snapped back, eyes softening as she slipped a hand up to his shoulder and pressed down gently. From her, it was as good as a hug, and he calmed himself with the rare show of affection. "Go talk to her, and then forget about it. Other than having a few conversations with her parents, you don't ever have to think about it again. Ok?"

Briar didn't want to admit his teacher was right, he was still a little sore over having so many of his secrets revealed without his knowledge. Still, he had made this bed; it was time to go and lie in it. Up the stairs he went again, much slower this time, and when he reached the top, Tris was still there. She was calmer now, but it was a tenuous thing. He had a feeling the wrong word could shatter it unintentionally.

"Hey," he said, falling into the chair beside her and staring out at the darkening sky.

"Hey," she replied, keeping her eyes on the appearing stars as well.

"So…um, this is harder than I thought it would be." The admission slipped out more easily that the ex-thief had expected, but it didn't quite dispel the tension that lingered between them. He tapped his fingers together, watching the movement of the vines and flowers in the fading light to try and distract himself from the blush that threatened his face.

"Yes," she agreed with a touch of sadness. "It is."

"Hey, don't go getting any ridiculous ideas now," he warned when he heard her sigh. "I'm not regretting this, ok? This is still ok, and we're still going to do this-"

"Briar, who was your first?"

The question caught the plant mage completely off guard, and he sputtered a minute before regaining the ability to speak. "Wha-what? Why?"

She shrugged, face unreadable but an odd mix of emotions coming through the bond. "I just…I just wanted to know."

"…ok. Her name was Liza." Briar hesitated, putting his hands together as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "She was a caravan master's daughter, and she…she helped me, after we escaped." He didn't need to say what; there was only thing he had ever had to run from since leaving his thieving days behind. Tris nodded, staying quiet as her foster brother seemed to struggle with what else to say. "She was pretty," he finally sighed. "And…nice. She helped me sleep, and…I needed that."

"I'm glad she was there to help you," the weather witch replied, surprised to find that she meant it. "And after that…?"

Briar shrugged. "Not being alone kept the nightmares away, usually. And if it didn't, all you had to do was mention the Emperor's name, and they understood. No questions or prying, just…someone next to you at night. It's better now; the soul healer helped, and it only happens every once in awhile."

"I have nightmares too," Tris replied, not that she had to say it; they all knew she still dreamed of dead pirates, at times, and murderers who used yellow scarves. Just as Sandry still woke screaming from dreams of being trapped in the dark or a web of black magic. And Daja, who never screamed but could be kept from rest by a raging forest fire or watching people die as she tried to pull them from a burning building. Especially the babies. It was always hardest with the babies. "And sometimes…someone there does help."

He understood what she was trying to say, and he smiled as he reached over to take her hand. She let him, knowing he understood.

"Are you sure we can do it?" she asked, voice small in the darkness of night.

"It's us," he replied with more confidence than he felt, but keeping the lack to himself. "And together we can do anything."

-090-

The day of the wedding dawned beautifully, the sun bright in a deep blue sky that promised little clouds with just a hint of breeze. The bride was ousted from her bed by two sisters who brought with them breakfast and the dress. She was allowed to eat, then put in the tub and scrubbed within an inch of her life, despite her protests that she could prepare on her own. The stitch witch told her tartly that she was _not_ letting her first sister to get married do so without any and all help she could provide. The metal mage merely smiled and said it was her pleasure to help.

The bride was helped into her many layers of underclothes ("Why must brides wear this much again?" "So the groomsman removing it feels like he's getting a present. That or simply to frustrate the life out of him, which could be equally amusing.") had her hair done for her with all the magic removed for once, and the marriage collar placed around her neck. She was not allowed to watch while Sandry applied makeup to her face; for admittedly, she prefered to never use such products herself.

Lark and Rosethorn entered as she was allowed to view herself in the mirror, where she did not recognize herself at all. The woman in the mirror had bold grey eyes, beautiful copper curls that tumbled in a controlled fall down her back and a dark silvery-grey dress that fit her curves in all the right places. The neckline plunged a bit lower than she was used to, but she had no protest as she stopped and stared.

"You, my dear," Lark breathed as she reached out to adjust the collar nestled at her throat, "are lovely."

Sandry rushed to agree, and Daja beamed with pride and satisfaction; only Rosethorn hung back as the other three women made much over the blushing bride. The tenth bell rang overhead, and Sandry and Daja were forced to leave to prepare themselves. Both kissed their sister on the cheek, told her she was a vision, and quickly left.

Lark glanced at Rosethorn, who still hadn't stopped staring at Tris in tight-jawed wonder. The weather witch had forgotten them all, so absorbed was she in noticing the faint dark-green vines that trailed her sleeves and intermixed with a few strands of navy winds. Silently, the acrobatic teacher took her leave, patting her friend's shoulder on the way.

It was awhile before either spoke, each so absorbed in their thoughts that they had entirely forgotten the other was still there.

"Mila preserve us…" Rosethorn breathed. "The boy doesn't know how lucky he is yet, but he will."

Tris jumped a bit, eyes blinking quickly as she took in the sight of her cantankerous teacher with tears in the corners of her eyes.

"Rosethorn…?"

"Dust," the mage replied hastily, dabbing her eyes with the edge of her sleeve as her fosterling smothered a knowing smile. "Ah…I know you'll take good care of Briar."

"Rosethorn, this isn't forever," Tris said as she handed over her handkerchief.

Rosethorn accepted the square of cotton and quickly wiped her eyes clean as she barked a rough laugh. "I know, but still…he doesn't do a very good job looking after himself."

"I'll do my best."

Niko entered then, his eyes wide as he surveyed the crabby girl he had once brought to Winding Circle for teaching, now grown into the beautiful woman before him.

"Briar's in over his head," the great mage laughed, tapping the edge of his neatly shaved chin thoughtfully.

Tris scowled. "Why do people keep saying that?"

"Because as much as you try to hide it, my dear, you are a beautiful young woman indeed," her teacher replied with a wide smile. He was rather dashing himself in a new coat of dark blue with matching trousers. His jewelry had been limited to a single earring and his medallion out on his front. The four circle members had decided not to parade theirs out today, but Tris knew they all still wore it where it couldn't be seen. Hers was inside a secret pocket of her dress, firmly nestled against her skin. "And Briar may not have seen it yet, but he will."

Her exasperation with him was not entirely feigned. "This is not real, Niko."

"No," he agreed as he took one nail-bitten hand (there was nothing they could do about her habits now) and placed it firmly on his arm. "But that doesn't mean we shouldn't enjoy ourselves when we can. Are you ready?"

"I am."

"Then let's go."

-090-

Briar stood to the Duke's right, as the traditional marriage ceremony called for. It wasn't long, but the implications of some of it still made the plant mage rather uncomfortable. After all, he could hardly imagine Tris truly swearing to honor and obey someone for the rest of her life or receiving only a promise of protection and prosperity in return. Glaki and Evvy had come down the aisle just after he had gotten into place, strewing white flower petals over the path behind them. The young stone mage had not been pleased with the dress she had had to wear for the event, but Glaki's excitement had infected her as well and both had been beaming the entire trip down the aisle. The musicians paused in their playing, and the gathered people stood as a slow, but not ponderous, march began to signal the entrance of the bride.

And suddenly, Briar couldn't breathe anymore.

That wasn't Tris. Or at least, it wasn't a Tris he had ever seen before. The dress, and her hair, and her _eyes_ …the plant mage quickly clamped down on his self-control, reminding himself that yes, air was necessary for survival as he tried to convince his mind that, yes, she was beautiful but she was his sister. His _sister._

 _Who was about to become his wife_.

The Duke watched the young groom to his left with a half-pitying smile. Tris, his bride, was a delight to the eyes as she walked beside Niko down the aisle in a suit that set off her gown perfectly. However, this was not a normal wedding, and it saddened the older man in the display that was about to begin. It was not so much that he believed their course of action to be wrong; for indeed, it had been quite apparent that there was no other choice. The Chandlers were coming, and preparations must be made immediately.

He had learned enough from things the four had said and not said about their lives before being joined to know that the last thing the weather witch deserved was to be sent off with a family that had treated her with less respect than most people treated their family pets. Still, marriages were meant to be a time of celebration, and if the tight mouth of the bride and matching resolve in the groom's eyes were any indication, well…he would play his part, and play it well. Because that was what was required for now.

He wished now more than ever that he had acted on some of his impulses in past years. At one time, he had considered offering each of them full citizenship, giving them small titles and lands of their own to go with it. Sandry had been the one to talk him out of it; it would have made the other three uncomfortable, even if they had earned it. He should have ignored her; as a citizen and a titled one at that, none of this would be necessary now.

The ceremony began, and the rest passed in a blur. Their names were announced together; Briar chastely kissed her on the cheek (extreme propriety was currently in style, and they were all thankful for that), and they were escorted to the banquet in their honor. At the head of the table, they drank from one handsomely wrought silver cup that bore their names as was traditional and shared bites to eat from one platter. They did not feed each other, as was suggested by a few of their bolder guests, but they were able to ignore most of the potentially improper remarks. Briar still caught himself staring time and again at the creature beside him, but if she noticed, she chose to ignore it, despite the pointed whispers of those nearest to them. They were thankfully arranged at a long table with most of their close family and friends providing a buffer between them and those invited merely as unwitting witnesses.

There were some gifts, arranged on a table of their own to be admired and seen by the rest of the guests. Some were hardly needed (they had long since bought every kind of kitchen bowl they or their cook might need), others entirely impractical (who in the world would use towels made of silk?), but there were a few that Tris admired enough to hope she might get to keep them even after this sham of a marriage had ended. The hand blown fluted vase with streaks of blue and violet in it was a personal favorite, and Briar had been eyeing a series of glazed pots almost covetously.

Sandry was the one who made note of who brought what gift and was already prepared with a mountain of half-written thank you letters for those who had attended. She would be signing for Tris and Briar, but she knew they would not mind in the least. It would not do to be rude to those who would unknowingly help in the corroboration of the fictional marriage.

It was hours before the first guests began to leave, and the newlyweds walked together to the carriage bedecked in white flowers and bows that had been set aside for them. Tris was almost asleep by the time they reached the house, and Briar gallantly helped her inside and up the two flights of stairs to their bedroom. Closing the door behind them, he paused when he saw her drop into one of the chairs by the large bed.

"Tris, are you alright?" he asked as he loosened his collar and unbuttoned his vest. She looked away quickly as he stretched absently in the very finely tailored suit of green and grey silk. It was tighter than he usually prefered his clothes, but even slouched to one side as he was, there was no denying it highlighted his fit form very well. She had thought for awhile that he'd grown into a very handsome young man; the trick was not giving it undue attention.

"I'm fine," she replied, taking off her glasses and rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Just tired, you can…" The words died in her mouth as she realized he wouldn't be leaving her room for possibly the next year.

"I'll just change in the bathroom," he said when the silence stretched for a bit. "Just call or knock on the door when you're done."

"Alright…" Feeling very self-conscious, the young woman quickly untied the laces that held her dress together and left it hanging over the chair. The many other layers took more time, but had surprisingly simple releases for all the fuss it had taken to put them on. Pulling on her nightgown (high collared and long-sleeved and almost to the floor) she climbed into her large bed and pulled the covers up to her chest. "You can come out, now," she said, hating the quaver that found its way into her voice.

Briar opened the door slowly, only fully emerging when he was certain she was fully covered. Out of courtesy for his new wife, he was wearing some old pants and a loose shirt that were soft from years of wash. It felt strange, wearing so many clothes to bed, but he uttered not one complaint as he set his nice clothes on the chair that had been deemed 'his' and crawled in the far side of the bed. There was plenty of room between them.

The bed, a massive four-poster with rails for curtains, had been in style almost four decades ago. The original owner had decided not to try and dismantle it when he sold the house, and Daja had left it in place as she prefered her rooms on the second floor to the suite on the third. Tris hadn't really thought about its size before, beyond that it made a nice place to sprawl and read books and was a good size to share with Glaki without getting kicked all night. Chime slept with her, sometimes, but usually, the glass dragon prefered the sling she had hung from the rails of the bed. Now, with Briar laying a foot away, it felt too small for the two of them to comfortably sleep.

"Goodnight," he said as he nervously turned the oil lamp off.

"Goodnight," she replied faintly as she turned away and lay still.

 _Tris?_ He whispered mentally as they lay in tense silence.

 _Yes?_ She replied, obviously still awake.

 _You know you can trust me, right?_

There was a moment of hesitation, then a soft sigh. _Yes, I do._

 _Alright, goodnight._

 _Goodnight, Briar._

-090-

Author's Notes:

A huge thank you to everyone who took the time to review the last chapter! I hope this chapter was equally wonderful, and that you all review again!

Though most of you did not take me up on the bargain, it shall remain. The number of new reviews required for Chapter 3 to be uploaded immediately is 20. Otherwise, I shall see you next Friday with a 20-ish page chapter for your viewing pleasure.

Happy Easter if you celebrate it, enjoy the cheap chocolate if you don't.

Until next time,

~CB~


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

-090-

Daja didn't know how Tris managed it. Chime, the glass dragon less than two feet in length, had taken up the whole of the smith's bed during the night. Still wondering if magic warping the threads of reality might have something to do with it, she headed downstairs and sleepily greeted the maid who was putting the coffee and breakfast tray on her table.

They were staying at the Citadel for the next week, giving Briar and Tris their 'Bonding Days' in the comfort of their home rather than at an inn or a vacation home where things may have been less private. Granted, there were several very nice locations that catered to couples and were very discreet. But even the best servants gossiped sometimes, and since they weren't sure how hard the Chandler's would dig for information on the marriage, it was decided it would be safest for the newlyweds to remain at home.

Sandry had promised to clear her schedule and spend some much needed time with her foster sister, but Daja also knew how busy the Duke's niece was and wondered just how long she would remain available. As the Citadel forge was quite nicely set up and she would be given the use of whatever tools and supplies she needed, she planned on catching up on a few personal projects when her sister found herself swamped with work again.

Chime grumbled as she settled into the common room of Daja's suite, nosing the items in her food bowl daintily as though she wasn't sure she would eat it or not.

"Just stay out of the flower beds and the mage kits," the Trader reminded her charge warily. "Tris might not keep you on a leash; I will."

Chime hissed in reply but settled down to her breakfast nonetheless. Oh, this was going to be a fun week.

-090-

Tris woke feeling warmer than usual, and a slow glance confirmed Briar was still burrowed in next to her with one arm thrown over her side. There was a pillow tucked between them, but she could still feel his breath gently on the back of her neck. In the middle of the night when she had first become aware of the situation, she had not wanted to wake him up enough to move and decided to deal with it in the morning. Now, it was morning, and she still wasn't sure how to deal with it. She wasn't necessarily opposed to it; it felt...nice, in a goosebump-giving sort of way. Tris supposed there wasn't anything _wrong_ with it, per say. He was holding her, and he had done that many times before. Granted, they were usually upright...and fully clothed...and it was only for a moment or two...

Closing her eyes, the weather mage was surprised to discover how tired she still was. Drifting off again, it should be no surprise that she did not wake for some time. Which left Briar in an interesting spot about thirty minutes later.

Opening his eyes, he instinctively snuggled closer to the warm presence beside him and placed a gentle kiss behind the redhead's ear. The curls cascading around him smelled wonderful, and he let himself soak in the scent with a smile. _Not many with hair like that_ , he internally mused as he tried to place the events of the day before and who he was lying beside. It depends on whose side you're on, if you consider it lucky or unlucky how quickly he put it together. Perhaps, it was lucky because it brought a quicker resolution. Perhaps, it was unlucky because he went from warm comfort to cold terror in about two seconds.

He was cuddling and kissing his wife, Tris, just like he'd promised he wouldn't.

She was going to kill him.

About five minutes into panicking, Briar realized the young woman beside him had not yet moved. Hoping against hope, the ex-thief carefully moved his arm away from Tris and scooted out of bed. Getting out completely, and using every trick in the book to remain as silent as possible, he made his way around until he could see her face and realized she was still asleep just as he had hoped.

Obviously, she had not awakened yet because, if she had, he would be burned to a crisp by now. With no intention of ever telling her either, he gave himself a stern talking to as he headed downstairs to make them both breakfast. The staff had been given the week off as well, to ensure none were there at all. Breakfast would be his way of apologizing, he decided as he chopped the fruit and set her tea to steep. A quick step outside procured a small spray of pink buds about to bloom, and he added it to the tray. Briar would simply have to make sure his body understood before he went to sleep because he couldn't hope to get this lucky twice.

Too bad his body had never been one to listen.

Tris had been surprised when he gently shook her awake and put the tray on her lap. Touched, too, and when he left to bathe she took the flowers left on the tray and placed them in a book on a whim. It would make a good book mark, she reasoned as she drank her tea and nibbled some toast. And she could always use more of those.

When Briar was clean and freshly dressed, he went out on the balcony and spent some time with his shakkan, leaving her to her own morning bath. Afterwards, they went downstairs together, Briar taking up some of his work and Tris a book as they continued to enjoy the streak of pleasant weather they were having. When it was time to eat, Tris made them a tray of sandwiches, and after that, they went back upstairs to restore her hair to its usual form.

That was interesting in and of itself. Briar watched as Tris unbraided the undyed ropes Sandry had prepared with one hand and rebraided her own hair with the other, tying the ends off with her black silk ribbons and tucking the ends out of sight. It wasn't as easy as it looked, though, and when Tris was finished she closed her eyes and sat back wearily. A sheen of sweat had beaded on her forehead and the back of her neck, and absently she dabbed at it with a crumpled handkerchief.

When Briar offered to make dinner she didn't protest, and even if it was only thick stew and bread reheated from the evening before, she still supped on it hungrily. Night came, and with it, Tris curled up in her favorite chair reading a new book, Briar lying below her on the floor as he worked on another seedling shakkan he had begun.

At the tenth bell, Tris closed her book decisively and gave Briar a small nudge with her foot. The plant mage quietly agreed, rolling to his feet and cleaning up for the night. The light was doused, both changed into their night clothes (he in the bathroom and she in the bedroom) and climbed into the bed. Good nights were exchanged, and sleep quickly claimed them both.

Tris woke in the middle of the night thirsty, and once more found herself warmly held by Briar. Giving a slight grumble of protest, she wiggled free of his arms and sat up as he whined in protest. Her tongue was dry against the roof of her mouth as she reached for the pitcher kept on the stand.

"Please…"

Briar burrowed himself further under the blanket, his arms closing tightly about himself.

"Briar?"

"…don't leave me…"

Tris poured her water and drank it quickly, climbing back into the bed and watching her companion carefully. His face was furrowed, his body tense, and a sense of trepidation and fear could be felt through their bond.

Slowly, she reached over and touched his hand, interlacing fingers as his restless mutterings came to an end. For a moment, she watched the vines writhe under his skin, pink and purple blooms appearing where his skin touched hers. Keeping the small contact, the weather mage smiled to herself as her foster brother and now husband relaxed in his sleep. Oh well, she reasoned as her own eyes began to close. She didn't mind touching him, and he needed his sleep as much as she did.

Right?

-090-

Briar gave a sigh of contentment as he woke, his wife wonderfully cuddled into his chest as his free hand gently stroked the back of her neck.

Wait, wife?

Internally, the ex-thief cursed himself once more. Quickly, he eased himself away, wondering how he'd gotten lucky two days in a row as he grabbed some clean clothes from his chest of drawers. He was in the middle of washing up for the day when he felt a sleepy query in the back of his mind.

 _Briar?_

 _In the bathroom, cleaning up._

 _Will you be a minute?_

 _Go ahead and get up,_ he chuckled lightly. _I'll wait in here until you say so._

 _Thank you._

He had always found Coppercurl's excessive modesty amusing and, perhaps, even laughable in some situations. But now, it had taken on a new attractiveness. For the next year or so, Tris would be under his protection and in his bed. That didn't mean he was necessarily involved with her like a true husband would be, but there was comfort in knowing that no one was getting a glimpse of it either.

Briar had never considered it a possibility that he might get truly settled some day. The girls he dabbled and dallied with didn't belong to anyone. What they did or did not flaunt didn't matter because in a moon or two they'd both be moving on to someone else anyways. Up until this point, he had never considered why men got so jealous over a lady they considered 'theirs'. But deep in his gut the young man knew if someone were to proposition Tris he would be hard pressed not to wrap the fellow up in spiny plants and leave him for the compost heap.

 _Briar?_

And perhaps plant a few rose bushes over him. Rosethorn would like that.

 _Briar? I'm done._

 _What? Oh, thanks._

Out in the bedroom, he received a quizzical look.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied with a slight shrug. "Just considering adding some new roses to the garden, maybe. So, what are we doing today?"

It was a similar schedule to the day before, meals were taken together in the kitchen and the rest of the time was spent together reading or working on projects. When Briar slipped an arm around Tris' shoulders after dinner, though, as they read on the sitting room couch she started in surprise.

"You're going to have to get used to this," he teased her as he drew the young woman back into his embrace.

"To what?" she replied in confusion as she stiffly accepted his affectionate cuddle. It reminded her more of the previous nighttime holding than anything else, and for some reason it made her very aware of the fact that they were alone in the house.

"To me touching you," he said as he slowly laced his fingers with hers. "They won't have a reason to complain about me, Tris. I'll play the besotted and doting husband to the hilt, but you have to let me."

Her face twisted comically in a frown, even as her insides twisted uncomfortably for another reason entirely. "It's a little late to go back, isn't it?" Play, he was playing. This wasn't...anything. And he was right, no one would believe for an instant they were married if he didn't do something.

"Just a bit," he agreed as he squeezed her hand gently. "I know you aren't...used to this. You don't have to do anything back, that's not that unusual in a couple for one to be more comfortable showing affection than the other. Just learn to accept it, and we should be fine."

"I suppose if I can get used to your evening antics, I can get used to this as well," she replied flatly as she closed her eyes and fell into the meditative breathing pattern. It was easier to accept things when doing so. Sensation receded slowly as the floating calm of control took over.

"See? It's not so-" Her foster-brother cut off as her words hit home. "…wait, my what?" He flushed as he added, "So, you did notice?"

"It's rather hard not to when you managed to wrap yourself around me, even when starting at the other end of the bed," she mumbled under her breath.

He felt his face grow even hotter and was glad her eyes were still closed. "Ah, right. But, you don't mind?"

"I guess not," she murmured, still breathing to counts of seven as her body continued to relax into his. "Glaki used to sleep with me, so I'm more used to it than you might think. For one so small she could wrap herself around you more than you'd think possible." She kept the part about how being held by him felt completely different from being held by a nightmare-plague child.

Briar hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath until it came out in a relieved rush. "That's good. I tried to stop myself, but nothing seemed to be working."

"Stop yourself?" Her voice was barely above a whisper now, the detached tone telling Briar she'd probably gone as far as she could without shutting him out completely. She still felt like she hadn't quite completely let go of the tension in her body, but it was a start.

"I do it in my sleep," he explained as he gently tugged at one of the curls at the base of her neck. The way her eyes popped open was satisfactory, but her annoyed sigh cut it short. "I didn't realize it until I woke up. Sorry, I guess I've been sleeping like that for so long…"

"You could have said something," Tris grumbled as she settled back against him, breathing normally this time. There, it was...easier this time. The tension was not present, or at least not like before. It felt too easy, almost, but she dismissed the note of disquiet in the back of her mind. This was Briar, and she trusted him.

Her brother shrugged. "I didn't want to make you more uncomfortable; this is already strange enough as it is."

"After my discussion with Rosethorn, I doubt you could," she said, refusing to meet his eyes as her cheeks stained themselves pink again. "However, thank you for caring about me."

"I try. Well," he said, clearing his throat after a moment of silence. "I guess we'll have to make sure we cover everything over the next couple of days."

"Cover what?"

"You'll see."

The next day, Tris was touched more in her life than any other, save her time with Glaki, and that had been a very different situation. When they got up, he kissed her on the forehead, then took her arm and escorted her down the stairs. When she cooked, he had fetched ingredients or utensils as asked, but when he was in reach, his hand would be trailing along her waist or arm or gently rubbing the middle of her back. He was exceedingly careful to remain in 'safe' areas, but he insisted on the contact, nonetheless.

Tris found herself growing comfortable with the contact much more quickly than she had assumed would be possible. He still made her insides jump at times when she wasn't expecting him, which was ridiculous. She knew he was in the room with her, their bond 'half open' between them. So why did she feel her heart stop for a moment when his arm dropped around her shoulders and pulled him to her chest for a kiss on her forehead?

While they ate, he sat next to her, and after inhaling his leeks and eggs, he put a hand on her neck to play with the few strands at the base of the braids that were free. When she visibly relaxed almost to the point of closing her eyes, he had chuckled and kissed one of her ears lightly. That had gotten a surprised squeak and a firm glare.

"Too fast?" he asked, eyeing her flushed cheeks in amusement. He didn't think she'd ever turned that color before.

"Too far," she corrected sternly, unwilling to admit that her heart had pleasantly skipped a beat at the touch. Skipped several, actually.

He sighed almost theatrically. "I can't do my best work when you put limits on me." The melodramatic tone did what it was meant to, distract from the disappointment her tone brought.

Tris did not budge. "Deal with it."

He met her steely gaze and gave way with a lopsided grin. "Alright." Still, he kept playing with the few curls that had escaped confinement, careful to keep away from the rest. He liked touching her, he always had. Tris wasn't a naturally cuddly person; her time among her aunts and uncles had seen to that. The lightning and her prickly personality didn't help. So when Tris let you touch her, even if it was just putting a hand on her arm or her knee against yours when you sat near each other, it meant something. And if she willingly touched you back, a hand on your shoulder or leaning against you to reach something on the table, it meant something more. He'd recognized it immediately because he had been the same way. So even this simple touch, his fingers lightly teasing the fine, coiled strands as she finished her tea, was an act of trust.

Awhile later, Briar added drawing lines on the back of her hand as they sat in the sun in the garden, enjoying the late-spring warmth on a blanket. She had a book in her lap, but she hadn't turned a page in awhile. He had given up on napping and decided to pursue his experiment a little bit further instead.

"What are you doing?" she asked curiously.

"Connecting the dots," he replied with an amused smile. "Making pictures like people do with stars.

"Oh really? What is on the back of my hand?" The amusement in her voice was apparent. Glaki had done the same, more than once. Freckles were rare in Tharios, and Tris tended to explode with them as the summer months dragged on. The girl had spent hours inspecting them in amazement. This was more comfortable, this kind of touch. It felt more like when they had been children, sitting on the roof together in the heat of the day.

The young man frowned in concentration before answering in a serious tone of voice, "Well, it's either a tree or a bent up old man. Or maybe a cat."

Tris smiled, and laughter colored her reply. "You don't know, do you?"

He grinned back, and winked. "I never said I was good at it."

She retrieved her hand long enough to poke him in the side, managing to score a hit in a particularly sensitive spot. He produced a most satisfying yelp before giving her a dangerous smile.

"So that's the way you want to play."

Tris hadn't known the palm of your hand could be ticklish, but apparently, hers was. She snatched her hand back a second time, but Briar attacked the ankle peeking out from under her dress instead. When she yanked that out of reach, he grinned and said he could wait. She didn't know for what until her attention wandered and he attacked the back of her neck instead. Evidently, her yelp was every bit as enjoyable as his had been, for he crowed with laughter before she whacked him none too gently with the cover of her book.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop," he laughed, rubbing at his arm where the book's spine had struck. She accepted him at his word, which was perhaps one of the less intelligent things she had done. This was, after all, Briar.

The attack came in the afternoon, the young man unable to pass up such a perfect opportunity. The weather mage just finishing the dishes from breakfast and lunch when Briar pounced on her from behind and ran his fingers up her sides teasingly. Instinctively bolting, Tris had dashed through the dining room and through the nearest door. The first opening she saw next was the one she took, and the only thought she had was that she was sure he was right behind her.

Pausing in the shadows of the room, her heart hammering against her ribs, she realized where she was and blushed. Briar's old room, the bed neatly made for once and the plants along the window sill. The garden was her one shot, if she could make it to the outside stairs, she could reach her room before…before what? And why was her stomach jumping nervously at the thought of being caught? She could insist he stop this silly game; they were grown adults after all…

The hot breath on the back of her neck was all the warning she had before strong arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her off the ground.

"Briar!"

Her shriek was loud enough to be heard through the whole house, but said young man just laughed and held her all the tighter, putting her feet back down on the ground towards the end. Eventually, she stopped struggling and relaxed, grumbling under her breath as he continued to laugh. Briar finally tired and sat down heavily, pulling Tris with him into his lap on the floor. She blushed, and tried to stand, but he refused to let her up.

"Briar..."

"Hm?" His breath stirring the hairs by her ear almost made her shiver. Still, his arms did not slacken their grip, and even if she had been standing and able to use her legs, she wasn't sure it would have made a difference. A second, "Hmm?" from him, longer this time, came closer to evoking a response. The control needed to stop it made her relax her body, just for a moment, and she felt his grip tighten that much more.

"You can let go now," she said after a few additional moments of struggle, stiffening when he rested his head on her shoulder.

"No."

"No?" She frowned at the forehead resting on her shoulder. There was a moment of silence, then, "Why?"

"I don't feel like it."

"I don't understand." Her heart still hammered against her ribs, but the beat had changed and she couldn't explain how.

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes." The answer was immediate, without hesitation, and Briar felt something warm start to grow in his chest. "But please let go."

He did, letting his arms drop to the sides as something in her voice told him he had gone far enough. Tris stood, slowly, then turned around and offered him her hand. He didn't need it, but he took it anyways, and she pulled him up to his feet. The young man opened his mouth to apologize and was surprised when Tris stepped forward, put her arms around his chest and hugged him. It wasn't a tight hug; there was still space between them. His arms came up automatically, bringing her a touch closer but no more as he wrapped her in his embrace.

"I know what you're doing," Tris said simply, speaking into his shoulder just loud enough for him to hear. "And...you're right. I do need to get...used to this. But-"

"I'm pushing too much," Briar cut in gently as he squeezed her briefly before letting go with a guilty grin. Tris took half a step back, looking up at him with worried eyes. "That's my fault, I'm sorry. You're just...you're a lot of fun to tease." He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets where they couldn't do any more harm. "I'll do better, I promise. We'll...figure this out, beat your parents' scheme whatever it is, and when it's done, everything will go back to normal. Like before." For some reason, her sigh of relief made him feel worse inside. "I'll make dinner, to make it up to you," he offered, extending an elbow as well with a gallant bow. When she took it, her small, nail-bitten hand resting in the crook of his arm, he relaxed a little. So he hadn't hurt his relationship with her, then. He would do better next time.

"No," she told him as he lead the way back towards the kitchen. "I've already got that planned out. But you can finish the dishes if you like."

"Done." He was more mindful when he kissed her lightly on the temple, and only put his hand over hers once to give it a soft squeeze before she went about the task of preparing their meal.

Dinner, when they finally made it there, was quiet, and when they crawled into the bed that night, Tris didn't say anything when Briar rolled to her side of the bed.

"Are you sure?" he asked as he put his back against hers, hoping that would be enough to convince himself he didn't need to wrap himself around her in his sleep.

"It's fine," she told him as she shifted to a more comfortable position beside him. "I trust you." She decided, as she fell asleep listening to his own breath deepen into sleep beside her, that it wouldn't take long for her to get used to this at all.

-090-

Their last morning together alone dawned so beautifully that Briar insisted on a picnic at the beach, and Tris had had no choice but to agree. They took the cart because no matter whether they rode or walked, traffic would only allow them to move so fast, and at least, the cart had reasonably comfortable seats. Briar packed the food and she the blanket and books, and before she knew it, they were sprawled out on the white expanse enjoying the salty breeze and fresh spray as the waves broke one after another onto the beach. It was one of the few places she could comfortably go without her glasses with colored lenses outside. She lay on her stomach, shoes kicked off and her toes buried in the warm sand, and he lay beside her flat on his back staring up at the sky. It was a perfect day.

"So," Briar said sleepily as he basked in the warmth of the sun. "What is stopping me from throwing you in the sea again?" He wasn't serious, and she knew that, but it was an old threat that he enjoyed bringing up every now and again.

"Three things," Tris replied without looking up from her book. "One, this is a new dress from Sandry, ruin it and face her wrath. Two, the book is borrowed from Rosethorn, ruin it and face her wrath. Three, I am in a perfectly happy mood staying dry, ruin that and face my wrath."

"What is it with you women and your 'wrath'?"

"Do you really want to find out?"

He grinned. "Well...no, not today, I suppose." Quiet reigned between them for awhile, and both looked up in surprise when they heard a laugh from around a bend in the beach. Briar had chosen their spot, saying nothing beyond that he'd heard it was a good place to go undisturbed as he'd laid the blanket down and set their basket to the side with exaggerated care. A second voice joined the first, and Briar lay back down with a quiet laugh of his own.

Tris snorted in annoyance. "I had hoped not to be disturbed today," she muttered as she debated getting up from her stomach. Her current pose, while comfortable, was far from ladylike.

"We won't be," Briar replied calmly. "I left the basket where it could be seen, they'll move further down the beach and leave us in peace."

"What do you mean?"

"You usually go to the other side, don't you?" The two voices approached, then paused for a moment before moving on. Briar didn't wait for Tris' response. "See? They saw the basket and moved on."

Tris hadn't really thought about it before. She had been more focused on wherever they went having a breeze from the right direction so she wouldn't be constantly flooded with images from the city. She had learned to manage wind scrying better over the years, but that didn't mean it wasn't a nuisance at times. Sometimes, it was nice to see the world untinted by blue or green to keep the flood of images in check. Glancing around, she realized the waist-high sandgrasses surrounding them were a natural screen. And while they could see the ocean, they were well back from the tide and anyone approaching would see the basket first, giving them warning that someone was there. Someone who probably didn't want to be disturbed.

"Briar," the weather witch asked quietly. "Did you bring me to a...trysting spot?"

"Probably." The elbow planted firmly in his ribs made him grunt in surprise, and he opened his eyes to see Tris glaring down at him as she sat up in a huff. "What? What did I do?"

"Seriously, Briar?!" she said, outrage plain in every word, "What if someone saw us? They would think-"

"That we're up to what every young married couple _should_ be doing," he cut in grumpily as he rubbed his sore spot. "Because, you know, that's what we are. Married. And as an added bonus, we'll be left in peace, and if we're lucky, there will be more gossip for the mill for your parents to hear. I did think about it before we came, you know." The last bit was added dryly.

Tris was quiet for a time as she processed that, feeling a little bad as she looked down at the young man beside her. He had closed his eyes again but had left a hand over his side as though to protect it from future attacks.

 _I'm sorry._

 _It's alright. I should have told you. I might have thought your reaction would be more funny than angry. So, I'm sorry too._

She laughed wryly at that, and he peeked an eye open at her. "Have you brought anyone else here?" She hadn't meant to ask the question, but as soon as it had occurred to her, it had slipped out of her mouth unchecked.

The look on his face was surprised, but he didn't hesitate as he said, "No. Or at least, not like you're thinking. I brought Evvy down here, she wanted to see the bluffs on this side, and we almost stumbled on some couples who were less discreet. After getting back, I asked around and found out most families avoid this side for a reason. I had it tucked away in my mind, for a special event or something, but never did get around to using it. Until now."

That, especially the last bit, made Tris inordinately pleased for some reason. Which was entirely irrational, and she attempted to shove it aside ruthlessly. "Your pretties don't like the beach?" The words were a touch barbed, but she couldn't put the sharpness behind them she usually might. The unusual warmth in her chest just wouldn't let her.

"Surprisingly enough, no," he said as he scratched at his nose, closing his eyes again to bask some more. "They complain about the sand getting everywhere or the crabs or the wind...they can't see the beauty. What's the point of enjoying something with someone who can't see what you see?"

"And what is it that you see?"

"You." Tris flushed hotly, and was glad Briar's eyes were closed as she strove to master herself. "The wind, the sand, the water...they remind me of you. Always have. Especially," his lips quirked in a familiar smile, and she knew however he was going to finish it wasn't going to end well. "The tides."

His smirk was simply too self-satisfied for his own good, and she poked his side with lethal accuracy. Once did not seem sufficient either, for he only laughed and while it was not cruel or unkind she could feel her cheeks heating again with the memory.

"Once," she grumbled as she turned her back to him, opening her book to its marked page. "You make a mistake once and they never let it go..."

"Stubbing your toe you let go," he replied philosophically. "Or banging your head on a low ceiling or slicing your finger with a knife. Everyone does that. When you find someone else who has tried to stop the tides and _lived_ , let me know. I promise to then let it go."

She didn't respond, instead pretending to read the pages in front of her. He knew it was pretense because she didn't take that long to finish a page, and that made him grin all the more. Still, he settled for laying back down with his side pressed against her back and tracing patterns between her shoulder blades with his finger tips. He didn't expect her to turn slightly and hesitantly run her fingers through his hair. Briar barely cracked his eyes to see Tris blushing faintly even as she stared with dogged determination at the book. She was trying though, and for that he was relieved. It would have looked strange if he was the only one who was ever physically affectionate, and practice was usually a good thing. He also was overwhelmingly fond of having his hair combed through and couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips. Tris' fingers paused, and his eyes met hers as she gave him an uncertain look.

"Too much?" she asked, obviously having misinterpreted his sigh.

"Nope, just right." She flushed even more at his cheshire grin, but when she looked back at the tome, her fingers continued combing through his dark, unruly curls.

It was bliss.

-090-

Daja settled gratefully back into her rooms on Cheeseman Street, finding the newlyweds gone and somewhat relieved to find it so. Sandry had promised if anything had gone horribly wrong they would have felt it, but Tris was the best one among them at hiding things from the other three. The smith wanted to put off finding out how things were as long as possible, and it seemed she was getting her wish. She knew that if her fears were true, having put off discovering so would only delay getting it (hopefully) sorted out, but Briar and Tris were prone to bickering at times and being between them always ended up being worse than she remembered from the time before.

Still, she went to work preparing her forge for the projects and commissions she intended to begin the next day. The work was dull, but it consumed her attention and let time speed by.

It wasn't until later in the afternoon she heard a familiar shout at the front, a peek out the window revealing her foster siblings returning with the missing cart and smiles on both their faces.

She was outside by the time they had stopped, Tris hesitating before letting Briar lift her from her seat and the servingman taking the reins as an opaque creature darted from the upper parts of the house.

"Chime?"

The glass dragon gave a reprimanding reply, landing on Tris' shoulder and twinning affectionately around her neck.

"Oh, stop it, I was only gone for a week," Tris replied with a light chuckle, laughing all the more at the affronted look on her pet's face at the way Briar draped his arm over her shoulder.

"Get used to it," he said as he tweaked the dragon's nose. "She's not just yours anymore."

The glass creature bristled until the weather witch laid a comforting hand on her head. "No provoking Chime, Briar."

"I'm not provokin' nothin'!"

"You're back," Daja said as she stepped out of the doorway she had been watching from with a small smile. "Things go alright?"

"Well enough," Briar replied with a grin. "There's rain coming, and Coppercurls wanted to be here for the storm." He paused as he kissed his Trader sister on the cheek. "Who am I to deny her?"

"The sky is clear…"

"Am I the weather witch, or are you?" Tris replied as she kissed the other cheek. "Did Chime behave for you?"

Daja's brows rose at that. Kisses from Tris were rare; she must be in a good mood. She glanced speculatively at Briar, then mentally reprimanded herself. Of course, he wouldn't have...done that. He'd promised Tris. Promised all of them, really. "At the Duke's Citadel, yes. When we got home she got into the seed pearls again, dug up half the front flowers," the smith mage sighed wryly. "And ate a bunch of your glass coloring agents, too. I think she wasn't happy about you leaving her behind."

"You can't always have her to yourself," Briar grumbled at the creature who looked far too smug for something as small as she.

"Be nice, Briar…"

"I am being nice!"

"I'm going in to see if dinner is ready," Daja announced as a delicious aroma wafted from the kitchen. "Care to join me?"

"Yes."

"Lead on."

Dinner was laughter and teasing as always, much to Daja's relief, and save for the arm draped across the back of Tris' chair, or the way the weather witch paid particular attention to Briar's needs everything was normal. The young woman was much comforted as she climbed the stairs to her second story bedroom and readied herself to sleep later that night. She could hear the crack of thunder and lightning overhead and knew from the gentle fizzing in the back of her mind that Tris would be outside enjoying the storm to the fullest. Perhaps, this wouldn't be as difficult as first imagined, it might even be easy in fact.

Truly, life should have taught her better by now.

-090-

Their first storm together like this had been...interesting.

Briar had known as soon as she went upstairs after dinner that the incoming thunderheads were the foremost thing on her mind. Tris had been almost uncharacteristically absent as she'd wished Daja a good night, and the smith mage had merely smiled knowingly before retreating to her own rooms for the evening. Normally, Briar would have gone to his own workshop, taking his oldest shakkan with him and working quietly until it was over. Partially because as a plant, mage he couldn't deny that lightning had always made him a little nervous. Partially because it was very easy to forget that the lightning and thunder meant only a storm when the broken pieces inside resonated a little too well with the loud booms and startling bright flashes of light.

But hiding downstairs as his wife danced among the brilliant lances of lethal light seemed...cowardly for some reason. He wouldn't actually go out in the storm, she wouldn't expect him to and might even detract from her experience in keeping him protected. He would, however, at least sit in their room and wait for it to be over. He could read or meditate or...something.

Tris was standing in the open doorway to the balcony when he entered and turned to see who it was. She gave him a puzzled look as he sat on the bed and he shrugged uncomfortably. "Briar," she said in a tone that was gentle for her, "You don't have to be up here for this. I know you don't like storms."

"I know," he replied with a tight smile. "But maybe it's good for me." His soul healer had actually suggested it months and months ago, but Briar had never gotten around to acting on that suggestion. And he wasn't going to admit that now. Noticing that her feet were bare and the hem of her dress covered only to her calves, he frowned. "You still have that dress?"

Tris flushed a bit as she followed his eyes down to her bared feet and lower legs. "It's the new charms Sandry puts in her fabrics," she replied as she attempted to pull the hem lower and failed. "They are mud, rain, and almost everything else proof. But not lightning."

Grateful for the change in topic, Briar pursued it with a grin. "Does she know that?"

"Oh, Mila no. She'd take it as a challenge, and she has too much on her plate already. Besides, it's not the actual fabric that is the problem, it's the magic woven into them. Old dresses might singe a bit around the hems, but nothing more. If the lightning hits her magic weavings the wrong way, it's almost enough to tear it apart at the seams."

"That could be embarrassing."

"It _was_ embarrassing." Briar's brows rose at her wry tone, and she rolled her eyes as she added, "Keth was there. He was very gentlemanly about it and got me a blanket. The fact that I was wreathed in lightning may have been a factor. He never mentioned it again and neither did I."

"And the dress...?"

"I told Sandry it had had a magical accident, which was true I just didn't give details. She understood; she's ruined a few gowns of her own experimenting with dyes when you weren't around to help. I cut the worst burns away and kept the rest for scraps. Glaki was thrilled to have a dress for her dolls that was like one I had worn."

The plant mage's 'hmmm' of understanding was derailed as he realized what had been bugging him as they'd talked. Tris wasn't wearing her corset or her petticoats. He had seen enough women in many states of dress (and undress) to recognize the signs. Corsets gave the figure clean lines that were supposedly more attractive. The soft curves that usually couldn't be seen begged to differ. And her petticoats would have stuck ridiculously far out from her hem with it being so short. She hadn't expected him to come up and stay for the storm, so he could understand why she had gone without like usual. That was besides the fact that wearing a dress without those protections would also soak anything underneath it. Briar wasn't an expert, per say, on women's underthings, but he was fairly certain being soaked was a good way to ruin a corset.

Instinct made him jerk his eyes up from her waist before she looked back at him from studying the sky. He must not have smoothed his expression quickly enough, though, for she frowned and said, "You don't have to stay, Briar. I won't think less of you for it."

She meant it, which meant more to him than he could have explained at that moment. The fact that she had completely misinterpreted his expression was irrelevant. "It's hard to be afraid of something when you see someone else enjoy it so much," he replied with a crooked grin. The fact that she would never mention that fear to anyone else was the only reason he was willing to admit it now.

That, and it distracted her (and him) from his earlier train of thought.

There was a loud crack and a moment later the first peal of thunder boomed overhead. Chime tinkled from her hammock overhead, and eagerly winged out the window to frisk in the stiff breeze. A true summer storm off the seas, if Briar was any judge of these things. Tris would have been guiding it some, of course, if she thought it necessary. If the fishermen paid attention and kept their heads, the winds wouldn't be so dangerous any couldn't make it in safely. The rains she generally left alone, but she would space it out, if she thought there was a chance of flooding and conditions allowed for it to happen safely. Severe hail, big enough to injure those outside or destroy crops, rarely occurred this time of year and needed such specific conditions that Tris rarely allowed it to fall unless it was necessary. Which just left the-

The flash was so bright that Briar instinctively shielded his eyes with his arm as Tris stepped outside and caught the glowing bolt in one outstretched hand. The light blazed along her outline while she drank it in as dry and cracked ground would a monsoon. The bar thinned, then dissipated completely, and Tris laughed as she caught a second and third bolt on her other arm. Smaller bolts twined almost playfully with her braids, popping them from their holder and drawing them up towards the sky.

It had been years since Briar had watched his foster-sister dance with a storm. And his soul healer had been right, he probably should have asked to come watch before now. It was hard for those broken pieces to resonate with something so...beautiful. The sheeting rain had plastered the old, thin dress to her skin, though mostly all he could see was her shadowy form as the lightning struck again and again and again.

That thought led back to an ugly something he had been trying to ignore from earlier. Keth. Tris' student. Who had been there when her dress had exploded and, apparently, been a gentleman about it. As Briar well knew, being a gentleman did not mean you hadn't actually seen anything or had wiped it from your memory later on. And he didn't know how he felt about that exactly.

To be more precise, he did know how he felt, he just didn't know why. He shouldn't be jealous of Keth seeing Tris...partially unclothed. Girls had see him bare several times, and Tris hadn't complained about it. Or even mentioned it. But it always seemed to come back to Keth. She had said she would have considered marrying him, when this whole business started. And Keth had offered to support Tris and Glaki so Glaki could remain in Tharios, the city of her birth. She wrote to him almost as often as she'd written to Briar when they'd been apart and kept those letters in the same drawer she kept her siblings' from before.

What if there was something there and Tris had never been honest about it? He wasn't sure how that made him feel. It made sense, given the bond between them. Lightning mages were rare, exceedingly so. Most who discovered it before it drove them mad (or were killed) were trained by mages with another specialization, like Tris and Niko. Even if the teacher had been younger than her student, Keth had still been lucky a weather mage, who wasn't a mimander, had been around to see to his training.

Could that be what had come between them, though? She may have thought it inappropriate to form a relationship with her student (even if that student was nearly a decade older). Briar couldn't shake the thoughts, even as a spectacular burst of light left stars dancing across his vision. He wasn't having the shakes or the visions or the smells that usually came, but he wasn't sure that the twisting and roiling of his gut with something dark was an improvement.

He stayed there, unable to stop watching as his wife moved with a grace that belied her size among the piercing spears and shafts of power. She accepted them into herself, and they twined about her like affectionate cats seeking her approval. It was amazing. And beautiful. And...innocent somehow. Briar had seen dancing girls before, wearing more and less. That had been a dance to draw one's attention to certain aspects of their dancers. This was a dance of joy, and while it showed Tris to an advantage she rarely displayed purposefully, it wasn't the same. And despite that fact, he enjoyed it all the more. Then brooded on Keth. Then enjoyed it again. Which was followed by more brooding.

It was a painfully long two hours.

The Tris who re-entered the bedchamber was almost floating as she walked. Sparks still leapt from braid to braid, and she picked up the metal glasses she had left behind and set them lightly on the bridge of her nose. Next she went to the copper globe that sat beside the door. Briar had never asked about it; it was obviously Daja's work and beautifully wrought. Tris made an almost absent gesture with one hand, drawing with it all the sparks and tiny spits of lighting that clung to her still. Into that hand it all gathered, and then she calmly placed it on the globe where it dissipated instantly. Then, she seemed to recall his presence, crossing to him in a few short strides to peer searchingly into his face.

"You stayed," she observed as she watched him carefully. Whatever she saw there must have been of concern, for the corners of her mouth began to pull down. "Was it too much?"

"No," he answered honestly, trying desperately to keep his eyes on her face and not the thin dress soaked and clinging to her pale skin that was pebbled with goose bumps... "No," he repeated as he willed himself to focus on the conversation instead. "It's something else." She shivered but didn't seem to notice as she continued to study him with a frown. "You seem cold," he added a tad desperately. "Why don't you go change? I'll stay awake until you get out, promise."

She gave him one last look before nodding and turning away. His eyes still followed her into the bathroom, and he had to sternly remind himself to stay on the topic at hand as he changed himself and closed the door to the balcony behind a gleefully dripping Chime. None of the water had made it inside, Tris' warding had seen to that. But the room smelled of the rain and the storm now and would continue to do so for a day or so. He decided the smell was a good one, and he might ask her to do the same to his room someday.

The dragon, almost aglow with lightning as well, though Briar hadn't been able to see her during the storm, went immediately back to her hammock and curled up inside. For that Briar was glad, Tris could control her sparks mostly. If Chime could, she choose not to, and a zap in the middle of the night was not how he wanted to wake up.

It was the first time Briar had been awake as Tris came out in her nightgown where he could see it. The length he had expected, the thickness too. The delicate embroidery and small touches of lace were a pleasant surprise. Sandry's influence, probably, but it was flattering on Tris all the same. That same instinct from before jerked his head up, this time as her head turned enough to see him, still drawing water from her hair with a towel.

"Your braids won't let you draw the water out immediately?"

She grimaced. "No, not with the spells already bound into them." Quick steps took her around the bed to her side, and she was soon in beneath the thick covers pulled up to her chest. "Now what's wrong?" she asked without preamble or hesitation.

Briar debated pushing the conversation off for another time, it seemed like a good way to end a good day on a sour note. But his own impatience wouldn't allow him to wait. "Would you have rather married Keth than me?" he asked, more bluntly than he had intended.

Tris blinked at him in obvious shock. "Briar...what?"

"If he had been here," he explained haphazardly. "And the offer had been made at the same time. You mentioned him before, and I thought maybe there was something you hadn't told me or that you trusted him more than me." He couldn't quite hide the hurt in his words at that final thought. He had thought there could be no deeper trust than that of their bond; what if he'd been wrong?

Tris didn't answer for a long time, instead lacing her fingers together in her lap and studying them carefully. "Do you remember when I told you about Yali?"

Briar had to think to place the name in his memory. "Glaki's foster mother," he finally said. "And Keth's...friend?"

The weather witch nodded slowly. "They were friends, yes. And something more, I think. I never asked, and after she was murdered. he didn't really speak of her again. In the usual way of things, they couldn't have been together really. And Keth never struck me as the kind of man to take a mistress. But with his life falling to pieces and everything else, I think something was growing between them that was more than just...interest. After her death, there were others who showed interest in him for a time. Until they saw the lightning."

"Where did his manifest?" he asked, remembering the first time he had seen lightning twine itself through Tris' hair. It had been a memorable experience.

"His eyes. I am used to seeing lightning in odd places, and it still took me awhile to get used to it. I don't trust him more than I trust you, Briar. Nor is there anything between us in so far as I am aware beyond the bonds of friends. But...like me he doesn't seem to have options anymore. He's mentioned it a few times in his letters since then. The lightning makes other people nervous. Fathers don't want their daughters marrying someone like that. Not one of 'decent breeding' anyway. And while I'm not of the highest noble houses, Chandler is still a respectable house in Ninver. I could have claimed them, even if they did not wish to claim me. I don't love him or 'fancy' him as you would say, but I think it would have solved problems for both of us for a time."

"But why would you have thought of him before me?"

"Because, you still have options." She spoke as though her words should have been obvious. "Briar, I know you haven't been flitting between girls like you were before, but I know you've still been seeing some from time to time this last year. Even now, if you wanted it probably wouldn't take you long to find someone to share your bed again. Keth and I, at least, seemed equally unlikely to find ourselves in that position in the near future without resorting to paying for it and, therefore, the least likely to regret this."

"Which you think I will. Regret this."

"Maybe. If the right girl comes along," she replied with a slight shrug.

The silence that stretched between them was taut with emotion. Briar felt so much swirling inside of him that he couldn't separate one thing from another. He could feel a similar turmoil from Tris, she hadn't withdrawn from him completely but there was a distance there as she waited to see what he would do.

The jealousy was gone, he realized as he tried to sort through the mess. And there was relief that Keth wasn't a... an issue, he decided, was the best word. But there was hurt too, and it was a hurt he was realizing he had made for himself. Why would she think he would be completely satisfied remaining with her for a year? Especially since they had a agreed it would be a marriage only in name. He had never gone more than a moon or two without a companion of some kind since he'd first begun, and usually it took less time than that to find another. And in all that time he'd never stayed with a single one more than a moon or two. Where had his actions shown that she was wrong? Truthfully, they hadn't and for some reason he regretted that now.

"I understand what you're saying," he finally said slowly. "And...I can see where you got that idea, too. I haven't...this isn't my usual choice of lifestyle."

"No, it isn't," she agreed quietly. "I trust you, Briar. There is probably no one I would trust more like… this." Her hands motioned between them, seeming to encompass all that had happened the last few weeks. "But while I appreciate your willingness, I think it will not end the way we planned. I think you will regret it in the end, even as I have no doubt you will keep your word."

"I can't promise that I won't," he replied as honestly as he could. "But I don't think I will. And even if I do, this was still worth it to keep you here with us. We'll face down your parents and keep our circle together. Daja and Sandry are with us, and together we've never been beat. Somehow, we'll get through it."

Tris grinned crookedly and rejoined, "And if not, we'll destroy something? That generally seems to be our best tactic."

Briar's grin matched hers. "Exactly." It wasn't fixed, exactly, inside his chest. There was still hurt there, but it was as if he'd smacked his own thumb with a hammer. It still hurt, but he could blame no one but himself and would have to deal with it himself. But there was also a peace in having Tris' complete trust, and it was on that note (a pleasantly unsour one) that they went to bed.

-090-

Briar had graduated from weekly visits to his soul-healer almost exactly one year after returning from Namorn. The man he had been recommended to by the temple, Master Brunstwort, was an older gentleman with a small healing ability and a penetrating mind. The combination gave him an amazing gift when it came to helping others heal hurts that could not be seen. He was friendly with a sense of humor, which Briar had not expected, and well-read. Surprisingly, there had been more laughter and talk than painful tears, though those had come at times. Master Brunstwort also had a gift for time. He always seemed to have it whenever his patients needed him.

Briar had originally made the appointment the month before, as he had for the last two years. The wedding, however, was set to be the day before, and the young man had decided visiting the day after his wedding may not be a good idea. So he'd requested a scheduling change, and it had been granted immediately. In truth, he didn't _need_ to see the old man each month, but the routine was a familiar one. Besides, it helped keep him honest.

No one had commented when he had cleaned up early from his work in the garden and left the house. He had only stopped to tell Tris that he would be home before dinner, and she had thanked him for letting her know. The walk wasn't far, the home unremarkable among its fellows. A servant opened the door at his knock, and he was led to a chamber to wait his turn. It was comfortably appointed with sturdy furniture that may not currently be in style but was lightly colored and gave the room an open and airy feel. The paintings on the walls were always scenes of outside. Forests, lakes, rivers or plains. The ocean. A road. There were no personal effects, but there were books. Briar picked one and settled in to wait. If he would be a while, the servant would bring tea and some refreshments. If not, it would be his turn very soon.

The door opened, and Master Brunstwort walked in with a book under his arm. He was of middling-height and build and bald with a thick beard and moustache of white hair. His brown eyes were warm as he greeted the plant mage, shaking his hand firmly before settling into the desk beside the couch.

"You changed your last appointment," the soulhealer observed as he pulled out his pen and ink bottle and opened the book he had brought to it's next blank page. "You never change your appointments, not since the very beginning. I was worried something had happened."

"Something did happen," Briar replied, setting his own book aside and lacing his fingers together over his stomach. "Um, I got married. To Tris. Last week."

There wasn't much that unsettled the soulhealer. The man had heard Briar's descriptions of the war without batting an eye. He had listened to stories of Briar's attempts to block away the worst of the pain with physical pleasures without censure. He had even sat through the one time Briar had discussed Rosethorn's death and subsequent return with calm. This news, though, was the exception to the rule. Master Brunstwort was flummoxed, his mouth agape and his eyes wide as he stared at the young man.

"You-? And she-?" Whatever he was about to say afterwards he quickly swallowed, shaking his head at his own foolishness. "No, I must hear this from the beginning to understand it in full. Begin."

And Briar told him everything. About the letter and the meeting. About his own wrestling with his decision to make the offer and her decision to accept. About how he could see no other way because there was no way he was letting her leave with people who had treated her so badly before. About the wedding, performed by the Duke at the Citadel in front of dozens of witnesses. And about the week together, alone in the house every day, and the visit to the beach.

"I might have taken the flirting too far," he admitted as he thought back over the week. "I mean, yes, I did. She's...very easy to flirt with, though. More than I thought she would be." He looked up at the soulhealer, and was surprised to find the man frowning at him. "What?"

"First, you purposefully told me in a misleading way," his companion said as he gave him a stern look. "I do not appreciate that." Briar nodded sheepishly, but couldn't quite keep his grin to himself. To see the white-haired man so shocked, it had been worth it. "Second...I understand why you did this. I even believe it was the right choice to make. But I do believe there are some things we need to discuss in more detail. Before we do that, though, let us go back to where we were last moon. We had agreed you would try and remain chaste until we spoke next. You had recently ended your relationship with Miss..." The old man ran a hand down the page until he came to the note he was looking for. "Miss Dorothea, yes? And as you had no one in mind to take her place, we agreed it would be a good time to try and remain unattached for a moon. How did that go?"

"It was easy enough," Briar said with a shrug as he watched the older man watching him. "No one really caught my eye. It's late spring now, so I've been busy with the planting and transferring seedlings. And the dreams...I only had one or two. And they weren't bad, as dreams go."

"Have you had any of the dreams since you married Tris?" the soul healer asked curiously.

"No," Briar admitted in surprise. "Or none that woke me up. If I don't wake in the middle, I don't remember them in the morning."

"Good. Good," the Master said as he continued to study his notes. "Have you found an opportunity for the other thing we discussed?"

"I did, last night." Briar colored slightly, though he didn't seem to be aware of it. He took some time, obviously lost in thought, before adding, "I...think it helped some."

"Tell me about it," Master Brunstwort pressed quietly, his pen making quick notes in the book in front of him. "From the beginning."

Briar did. It had taken time, to build that trust, but once the old man had proven himself, the plant mage had decided there was no reason to hold anything back. He told about going upstairs, despite the fear, to their room and sitting and watching as Tris had danced with brilliant lances of light that would leave a normal human dead and smoking. About how her finding joy and beauty in the very thing that caused him pain made it hurt a little less. He found himself mentioning the dress, and the way she had looked coming in from the rain too, then felt bad as he rethought the words that had just come out of his mouth.

"Well," he said sourly. "I guess that settles it. I am a lech. She's my _sister_..."

"No, she isn't," Master Brunstwort replied lightly as he continued to write in his book. "Not in the way that would make such observations...unseemly. You are a healthy young man who likes women; she is a healthy young woman whom you admire and esteem. I would be concerned if you did not notice such things about her."

"I don't think I've ever said either of those words about Tris," Briar reflected, giving his soulhealer a quizzical look.

"You did not have to," the old man said as he set the pen aside and met Briar's gaze steadily. "You told me yourself she all but dragged you here for your first appointment and waited outside to be sure you stayed. She is the first one you spoke to about Yanjing and the first one of your sisters you renewed your magical bond with. Her high opinion of you was one of the reasons you stopped spending each night with a different girl, and the entire year she spent away at Lightsbridge you had more news about her from your letters than you did your other two sisters who lived here in the city. You have gone to her for advice on many things, and you are exceedingly proud of her many accomplishments through the years. You may not have said the words, Master Moss, but they are still quite accurate."

Briar did not reply as he took in the words, considering them carefully as time had taught him Master Brunstwort was rarely mistaken. "So," he finally said with care. "Admire and esteem. And it's...alright if I notice Tris'...attractive qualities...?"

"Normal," the soulhealer correctly lightly as he went back making notes in his book. "And healthy. Whether or not you act upon what you see and how it makes you feel is another matter. Which brings us quite neatly to your physical relationship...you are not sleeping together?"

Briar colored again, and quickly replied, "As in...the act? No. We are literally sleeping in the same bed, though. For appearance's sake." The last bit was tagged on defensively, and Master Brustwort made another note in his book.

"And that is going well?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral as he watched the young man out of the corner of his eye. "You aren't disturbing each other, or...?"

"No, no, it's going well, I think," Briar said as he shuffled in his seat, leaning forwards as he drummed his fingers together. "She doesn't keep me up, and as far as I know, I don't keep her up either." He paused, then decided there wasn't any reason not to tell the rest. And every reason to tell, if there was something wrong with his actions Master Brustwort would tell him so. "I do...cuddle with her in the bed at night. She doesn't seem to mind."

"Cuddle?"

"You know, sleep next to her with an arm around her. Stay close to her. That sort of thing. I keep a pillow between us, so...y'know." Briar couldn't remember the last time his face had heated so thoroughly. The soul healer had the grace to hide his smile behind one hand. "Some things a fella just can't help. Do you think that's...alright?"

Master Brunstwort quietly chuckled to himself, but nodded approvingly. "That's...very wise of you. And if she doesn't mind, I don't think it's a problem. Outside of the bed, do you...touch her? Hold her? Kiss her?"

"Some," Briar admitted, adding quickly. "For appearance's sake. Can't really pretend to be besotted without a little of it."

"So her parents are already here?"

"No, I mean, in preparation for being with them." Briar sighed when his companion motioned for him to elaborate. "Tris is...she's not the type to let people get close to her. She tends to flinch or back away when she's not expecting something, even among our circle at times. But she doesn't with Glaki, and I figure that's because kids don't know any better, and she probably crawled all over Tris when they were traveling together. So...we're practicing, so she won't be uncomfortable when I do it in front of her parents."

"And is it working?" the Master asked, keeping his thoughts to himself.

"I think so. Although she does jump sometimes...the tickling might have something to do with it." The grin that came up on the young man's face had far more self satisfaction than guilt.

"I would imagine so." The old man could remember those days, even if they were decades away from his current self. The teasing had always been fun. "And you...don't mind doing all of this for her? The practicing and the kissing and..." Master Burnstwort waved a hand, including everything else without elaborating further.

"No." The word was spoken with a slight hesitation, and the old man waited patiently. Eventually, Briar added uncomfortably, "I don't mind it at all. It's...easier than I thought it would be, actually. A lot easier."

Ah. So he did see it. The Master smiled slightly, eyeing the young man as he resolutely kept his eyes on his hands. He also wasn't ready to deal with it. Well, there was time. A whole year's worth of it, apparently.

"In some ways I'm very happy to hear all of this," he said, watching as the tension that had been growing on his patient's face began to drain away. "I was going to suggest a second moon of remaining chaste, but a year will work just as well. I want you to continue to make progress down the path of not using physical relations as a way to block out your problems, and denying yourself those physical relations in unhealthy situations is only going to help."

"But you don't think what Tris and I are doing is going to mess that up?" The thought slipped out of his mouth as soon as it came to him.

Master Brunstwort shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "No, I think it's going to be good for you. You care about Tris, and she cares about you. You trust each other and have a close relationship already. Spending more time together is only going to strengthen that relationship, and I am all in favor of you putting time and energy into the people who provide you with your greatest support."

Briar didn't seem to know what to say to that, and eventually settled on, "Oh. Well...good."

"Do you have any concerns about this? Other than keeping her parents from taking her away?" his soul healer offered, giving him the opportunity to share anything else he wished to.

"Well, not really," Briar said as he scratched his chin. "We're getting along alright, and everyone else is pretty solidly behind us. No one wants to see her given back to them, and she trusts me to be a gentleman, so no one is giving me a hard time about anything."

"Trust is good. It's a solid foundation upon which one can build many things." The words were spoken absently, as though the old man were quoting a proverb to himself.

"I'm going to keep her safe this time," the young man added as his mouth set into a firm line. "They aren't going to hurt her again, Master Brunstwort. I'm not going to let them."

"Protecting your friends and family is an admirable trait," the master replied calmly. "When tempered with reason and wisdom. By all means, keep her safe, but be careful you do not let your anger loose in haste. Words spoken rashly are words that cannot be undone."

Briar couldn't deny the wisdom behind those words, and nodded his agreement. "I will try and keep my temper."

"You are still meditating regularly?" Master Brunstwort asked, knowing the answer before he spoke.

"Not as often as I should." He had been right. "I'll do better," Briar promised, and the master took it as he usually did. A good intention that would likely not last long. Oh, he would meditate as he needed for his magic but likely not much more than that.

"I hope you do; it will help," he replied, remembering something from a previous conversation. "Tris meditates regularly, does she not? Try and do it with her, having someone else there may help encourage you to be more consistent."

"I could do that," Briar admitted, not at all opposed to the idea. He had missed having someone to meditate with, from traveling with Rosethorn and Evvy. Maybe Tris had too.

"Good. Is there anything else...?"

"No."

The Master nodded. Their next talk would definitely be of interest. "Do you want to keep your usual one month appointment, or should I look for something sooner? In case her parents prove to be more frustrating than anticipated?"

"One month is fine, at the usual time," Briar said as he rose to his feet and straightened his close. "Thank you for your time, Master Brunstwort."

The Master smiled, putting a hand on Briar's shoulder. "You are quite welcome."

-090-

Authors Notes:

Why is this late? The honest truth: I forgot! I had it on my list yesterday, and for some reason was convinced I had uploaded it early Friday morning. Obviously, that was not the case. I do partially blame Doctor Who, I'm closing in on the end of the 7th season (THE PONDS *SOBS*), and not binge watching is becoming more and more difficult in my spare time. Sorry.

I hope you all enjoyed the chapter. Things are moving along nicely, but we'll really start seeing some action in the next few chapters.

The Bargain: 20 reviews. If I get 20 reviews for this chapter, good reviews and no spam, I'll immediately post the next chapter. It's ready and waiting, do your part and it could be up as soon as tonight!

See you all soon,

~CB~


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

-090-

It had been a little over two weeks, and Daja had been surprised at how quickly they had fallen into their routine again. Oh, there had been changes to be sure, but the basics were the same. Breakfast together in the kitchen, lunch as you got to it, and dinner together in the dining room. She found Tris and Briar together more often than before, taking a break in his garden or the balcony upstairs. Sitting together for lunch. Going out together to run errands for the house or themselves. And yet, despite their being in each other's company constantly, they did not feel like a true couple. She never felt like an intruder when she walked in (unless, they were discussing books, but that was nothing new), and she was always welcomed into whatever was going on right then. They were just...together.

The day had started like all the others before it. Breakfast, then to work. Daja was passing through the main floor on the way to the forge when the housekeeper answered the knock at the front door, the sound of an older gentleman inquiring if this was the residence of Trisana Chandler following a moment later. Daja changed direction immediately, coming into sight behind the graying woman wearing her old burn-marked leathers she prefered to work in.

"Ah, Mistress Daja," the housekeeper said with a quick curtsy as she turned to see what the couple was looking at over her shoulder. "I was just about to-"

"We came to the wrong house," the man interrupted her briskly as he started to turn away and reached for the door he had just closed behind himself. "Our apologies, good day."

"Valden, perhaps they can tell us where we need to go," the woman with him offered quietly, putting a hand on his arm. "Please forgive my husband, our voyage here was difficult and has negatively affected his temper."

"Our daughter is not living with some _trangshi_ ," the man said flatly, not even bothering to lower his voice for the comment. "And would never associate herself with one. Let us go to the temple, as you first suggested; someone there will be able to help us-"

"I am not a _trangshi_ ," Daja cut in darkly as she strode forward with a frown. The housekeeper backed up out of her way and retreated farther into the house, deciding she wanted nothing to do with whatever confrontation was about to occur. "And you have no right to say I am, _kaq_."

The man's face flushed hotly, and the smith mage gave him a smile full of teeth. "How _dare_ you _..._ "

"I think you need to leave," she interrupted, pointing to the door behind them. "Now."

"Dear..." His companion's quiet word was enough to stop whatever retort he had coming to his lips, eyes following hers to a figure standing stock still in the half-shadow of the hallway Daja had emerged from earlier. "Is that...?"

"Let me past," the man demanded when Daja moved to block their way.

"No," she replied, "Leave."

-090-

Briar was planting bulbs when a blaze of terror, anger and so much else he couldn't sort it all out seared through his bond with Tris. The next moment it was gone, but the air went _still._ The breeze that had been rustling through the bushes simply ended as though frozen in place, and the feel of it itched across his skin eerily. Leaving his tools where they lay, the plant mage sprinted through the house to the front where Daja was shouting at a well-groomed couple in the doorway. Tris stood farther back, half-hidden in the shadows but pale as a sheet and barely seeming to breath she stood so still. The air was almost thick around her, forcing him to exert more energy to reach her.

 _Breathe_ he whispered in her mind as he gasped for air himself, laying a hand on her shoulder to comfort her as much as steady himself. It wouldn't let his lungs _move_! _C'mon, Tris. Just breathe. Please._

The release was a palpable thing, and Briar gratefully sucked in a full breath of air as she sagged against the wall. _Stay here_ , he said, squeezing her shoulder once more before moving on. _I'll handle this._

"You have been told you are not welcome, leave now!"

"I don't have to take this kind of verbal abuse from you, _Trader_." The word was sneered through clenched teeth.

"Enough!"

All eyes turned to Briar who firmly crossed his arms over his still heaving chest, trying not to show he was almost panting for air. "Daja," he said in Trader talk as he met her eyes. "Please take Tris upstairs. I'll deal with them."

"This is my house, Briar," she replied flatly.

"And they aren't welcome here," he finished with a grim look. "Go, I'll see to these bleaters."

"Alright."

He didn't need to watch to know the smith mage had put her arm around his wife's shoulders and was leading her upstairs.

"You are the Chandlers," he said without preamble, looking over the pair blandly. The man was of middling height, well-built and solid framed with straight red hair cut close to his scalp. His wife couldn't have been more different, tall and lithe with pale skin and a mass of inky curls that spilled down her shoulders in gleaming waves.

"Yes, we are," the man replied as he checked his cravat and smoothed his jacket in an obvious effort to calm himself. "You were expecting us?"

"No," Briar replied in clipped tones. "We were not, which is considered very rude."

"I do not need a lesson in manners from a gardener," the Chandler man said as he dropped all pretense of calm. "I demand to see my daughter or speak to someone of importance, now!"

Briar silently drew his medallion out from under his shirt and let it hang on his chest. He waited until he had their full attention before speaking. "My name is Briar Moss," he said as he watched recognition grow on their faces. "Accredited mage from Winding Circle Temple at the age of thirteen and recently married to Trisana Moss- not Chandler, accredited mage of Winding Circle, also at age thirteen. I am famous across multiple countries for my work and have dined with both the Emperor of Yanjing and the Empress of Namorn as a personal guest. If I am not important enough for you, perhaps, you should reconsider how highly you prize yourself."

-090-

"Tris?"

The weather mage had not moved since Daja had escorted her into her bedroom, Chime crooning as she twined herself around Tris' neck. The glass dragon had been sleeping before their entrance and had immediately latched herself onto the weather witch upon waking.

"Tris, look at me."

Gentle but calloused hands clasped the pale face, turning sightless eyes to dark ones that radiated warmth and concern.

"Tris!"

"They aren't supposed to be here for another week," was breathed from nerveless lips, the storm-grey eyes finally snapping into focus. Daja was grateful for that; the atmosphere had begun to tighten again, making her work harder for air. "Niko said they weren't coming until then, and they were supposed to go to his house first to give us time to prepare!"

"Shh…" Daja folded her arms around the shaking young woman, hating how frail her sister felt in her arms.

 _Daja, what's going on?_ Sandry asked through their bond. _Briar's furious, and Tris is blocking everything. With lightning._

 _We need you_ , Daja replied, letting the image of Tris' bloodless face slip through. _Bring Niko. Hurry._

 _I'm coming._

-090-

Niko's face felt stiff from keeping it blank for so long. He had arrived with Sandry just before Briar began to say things that would have caused irreparable damage. Valden and his wife, Darra Chandler, still didn't look like they believed most of what they'd been told, after being escorted to his home, but they sat in richly upholstered chairs across from him discussing something quietly.

"We were never informed of these developments," Tris' father began darkly for the third time.

"Because you signed a contract saying you wanted no contact in either direction until her 20th birthday," Niko replied smoothly with a smile he reserved for annoying politicians and boot lickers. "Stone Circle assigned her to Winding Circle who assigned her to me. As such, all decisions were legally mine to make at the time."

This had been pointed out before, and the man could still find no fault in the mage's logic no matter how much he wished to. "They seem a bit young…"

Niko fought down the urge to roll his eyes from years of practice and replied for the second time, "They are grown beyond their years, I assure you, especially after receiving their credentials at such a young age."

"A mage as a son-in-law isn't a bad thing," the merchant conceded at last as he shared a veiled look with his wife. "Where is the boy from?"

Niko allowed a bit of teeth to show in his smile. "The 'boy's' name is Briar Moss."

"Briar, then," Valden said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Where is he from?"

"Here and there," Niko evaded, enjoying the suspicious looks on his guests' faces just a little too much. "His mother was a prostitute in Hajra, and he never knew his father, so it's quite questionable…"

The merchant's face paled, then burned bright red. "A street mongrel?!" he thundered as he rose to his feet, "You married _my_ daughter to-"

"A powerful mage who has helped save Emelan more than once?" Niko retorted just as hotly, his facade of calm cracking beneath the strain. Slowly, he rose, meeting Valden stare for stare. "Yes, I did. And may I remind you that she hasn't been 'your daughter' for the last nine years, and I don't see why that needs to change now."

The merchant was the first to look away, but his voice was still hot as he replied. "It was for her own good. You could never understand."

"You're right; I wouldn't," the great mage said as he resumed his earlier cool minus the smile. "I will freely admit to having no children of my own, but having come to care for Tris and her foster siblings as I do, I do not believe I would have made your choice."

"You're a mage; you understand magic."

"Please, dear," Darra interrupted when her husband would have continued. He paused, then subsided and straightened his coat instead. Niko had not missed the stains and wear on the dark material; they must have come straight from their ship upon arriving at the docks to still be dressed in such clothes.

"Master Goldeye," she continued when her husband had taken himself in hand. "If we may, I think perhaps it might be best if we retire for a time, to rest and digest the information you so graciously shared with us. If your offer is still available...?"

"My guest suite is at your disposal," he replied quietly, feeling a bit ashamed for having lost his temper in front of her. "For as long as you require it. I also apologize for my outburst; it was impolite."

"My husband often has that effect on people," she said with a smile as she rose and took her husband's offered arm. He harrumphed grumpily but said no more. "We kindly accept your offer, Master Goldeye, and your apology. Dear?"

The merchant met his wife's stern gaze, then looked away with an expression of one being forced to do a most unpleasant task. "I apologize as well," he muttered, less gracefully than Niko but with a note of sincerity as well. "My temper...it gets the better of me at times."

The mage nodded gravely. "Then, I accept your apology as well. Someone has already been sent to retrieve your belongings from the ship, and they should arrive shortly."

They thanked him for his kindness, and Niko allowed them to leave, escorted by a maid to their guest suite. He frowned as he leaned back in his chair and tried to puzzle out what it was that had bothered him the most about the pair before dinner that evening. It wasn't the temper so much, he had almost expected that after dealing with Tris, but still...perhaps, it would come to him later.

-090-

After calming himself down upon the group's departure, Briar didn't bother to ask where Tris was, only giving Sandry a curt nod before he bounded up the stairs two at a time. Daja met him at the bedroom door, letting him and Sandry in to surround the numb Tris who had been moved to her favorite chair.

"They're gone," he said softly as he gently tilted her face towards him. "They're gone, and they can't hurt you anymore, Tris…"

"I know," she said flatly, eyes dim and lifeless as they met his. "I saw them leave. I hate this, hate how just seeing them makes me feel. I'm like a child cowering under the blankets at imagined shadows-" Her voice choked to a halt, and it was Briar who gently took hold of her mind, pulled it from her body and into the place he had created for them. Sandry and Daja followed, and there beneath a forgiving moon and a starry sky they comforted and cradled their sibling on the roof of Discipline Cottage. Showering her with love, they healed the wounds that had reopened and the new ones that had been inflicted with the most recent meeting. That was perhaps the most fascinating thing about this place. The three others surrounded Tris...and yet didn't. If it had been a physical thing there wouldn't have been an inch of space between their bodies, yet she lay on her back with Daja and Briar to either side, barely touching her arms, and Sandry sitting above. And yet...their minds were so melded together in that moment that she felt wrapped up in them as tightly as a blanket wrapped about her shoulders.

After sometime, Daja withdrew, a distant look in her eyes. "They're calling for us," she said as she slowly detached herself from the group. "I'll take care of it, you stay here until she's ready to come back. Tris?" Bloodshot steel gray met the black gaze. "You are ours, and they cannot have you. Understand?" Quickly, the smith mage kissed the worry-lined brow and faded away from sight.

"Uncle is here," Sandry added as there was a 'tug' on one of her many lines. "I must go as well. Stay and rest, we won't let them disturb you. We truly do love you, Tris; never forget that." Sandry kissed the pale brow as well, giving Briar's hand a brief squeeze as she faded away.

Briar didn't say anything as he just wrapped the young woman in his presence, until she sighed and gently pulled away. Again, the physical didn't match the feeling. She barely shifted away, could still feel his arm gently pressed against hers, and yet, the sensation of him retreated, and she felt only herself once more.

"I don't think I can do this," she whispered as she worried her bottom lip with her teeth. "It's too soon; we weren't given time to prepare…"

"We can do this," he overran her gently. "If nothing else, I'll just finish what we never started and make it so they can't take you away no matter what they do."

" _Briar!"_ she squeaked as the full import of his words fell upon her. Whacking him on the shoulder, she glared, "Don't you even _think_ about it-!"

"That's my girl," he chuckled as she grumbled indignantly, nudging her with his elbow teasingly. "You've got the courage to face your parents down, Tris. You've faced down pirates, murderers, firestorms, and even the Empress herself. You can tame storms and call lighting to your hand. These bleaters are nothin' compared to that."

She rolled his eyes at the way he purposefully allowed the thieves' cant to enter his speech. "Logically, yes. But whenever I see them I feel so…small. So wrong."

He turned his head to meet her eyes and replied, "You aren't. We're here with you until the end, ok?"

"Ok."

 _We've been invited to dinner with Niko and the rude merchants_ , Sandry interrupted through their link. _Are you…?_

 _Not tonight_ , Briar replied firmly before Tris could open her mouth (metaphorically speaking). _Tell Niko we'll be there tomorrow, for lunch, ok? We need one more night._

 _I'll tell him. Moonstream is having dinner with them, to brag on you, I bet. Do you want us there tomorrow?_ She didn't specifically say who 'us' was, but he could tell by the inflection she meant her and Daja.

 _Yes, please._ Tris' response was quick. _I...I want my family with me when I meet them again._

 _Then we'll be there._

"C'mon, let's go back," he said as he gave her a tug towards their bodies. "I'll get you some tea, you pick out a nice book to read, and we'll spend the day in the garden just relaxing."

Tris shook her head she prepared to follow. "But I was supposed to help Daja in the forge today, and for dinner I was going to try that new recipe on the chicken…"

 _Daj…?_

 _I'm not going back to the forge today_ , she replied as she caught the rest of his thought, rather distracted. _We'll pick it up later, Tris._

 _And I'm taking care of dinner_ , Sandry added, having been listening in with half an ear.

"So you're covered," Briar said as he tugged on one of her curls playfully.

"But we should be preparing…"

"That is preparing," he said with a shrug. "Normal couples spend time together, Tris."

"We aren't normal," she said dryly, even as a corner of her mouth began to curl upwards once more. "You've been spending the last few months reminding me of such." It had been his excuse every time she'd mentioned going back to Lightsbridge.

"Really?" he asked, less than amused at this turning of the tables.

She grinned at his frustrated sigh. "I know. I can get my own tea, though."

"Nope, I'm spoiling you rotten, and that includes getting you your tea, your lunch, and anything else you might be wanting today." Briar beamed as he struck a proud pose. "I will be the perfect husband in every way. Shall we?"

Tris couldn't help but laugh softly as she took his arm, opening her eyes to find her husband wiping half-dried tracts of tears from her face.

"C'mon," he said as he tucked his handkerchief back in his pocket. "Go pick a book, I'll be in the garden with the tea and snacks soon."

Tris obeyed, more because she didn't want to fight him than anything else. She didn't dawdle and was surprised to find him waiting for her below with the promised tray. On it was a steaming pot, two cups, and several of the spice cookies she had made two nights before. He picked a spot under the one spreading oak for them to share and lay on his back in the dappled shade. She sat beside him and was surprised when he scooted closer so his head was on her thigh a moment later. Silently, he picked up her hand and placed it on top of her head.

"I may be your obedient slave," he commented, eyes closed and his usual smirk still in place. "But even perfect husbands need their heads scratched sometimes." The look of hope he gave her as his eyes opened slowly was such that she couldn't find it in herself to deny him. And so that was how much of their day passed, in the quiet and privacy of their home.

-090-

Valden was not sure what to make the situation he had found himself in.

At the start, it had seemed fairly simple and straightforward. They had, a number of years ago, given guardianship of their daughter Trisana to the local temple of Stone Circle. There had been many reasons for that decision but that was now immaterial. He had, upon writing his first letter to Stone Circle, been expecting to by now have, at least, begun to plan for whatever decision needed to be made regarding Trisana's future and be focusing on continuing to manage and build the family business as far as he could in his lifetime.

The letter he had received in turn had taken that plan and spun it on its head. The Stone Circle had, for undisclosed reasons, sent Trisana to Winding Circle temple, located in Emelan. They would have to travel there if they wished to see her, as the temple had no word of her since having sent her there almost a decade ago. They had forwarded his original letter and copy of the contract to Winding Circle and expected a reply as soon as it was reasonably possible.

He had been upset at first; Winding Circle was rather far. What if Tris had never made it safely? Had she been sent with a proper escort? Why had it been necessary for her to go? The letter explained nothing, and he had a sense that going there in person to demand answers would get him nothing more. So he had begun to lay his plans.

The reply had come just as he had finalized them. Trisana Chandler had arrived at Winding Circle almost ten years ago and still lived in Emelan. The letter and contract had been passed along to the proper authorities. It was all the confirmation Valden and his wife needed to set off immediately. The reply was sent by special courier and would arrive ahead of them, perhaps, a fortnight in advance. Their daughter's birthday was not for another two moons, and depending on her situation it could take weeks before she would be able to travel. Being away from his home and business for as much as a quarter of a year was not ideal, but he had built the family business well and left instructions on how to contact him by special courier should it be needed.

The voyage by sea had been atrocious. Valden knew the weather was chancy this time of year, but the storm that had caught them two days out of Ninver had been persistent and strong, chasing them almost to Emelan itself. The seas had been choppy and harsh, leaving the deck bobbing more often than still and the winds just short of strong enough to rip them from their moorings. The captain had weathered it as well as could be expected, but it was not a pleasant or easy voyage. The only good thing had been they had arrived days ahead of schedule.

A letter had been waiting for them at the docks. It was from a Master Goldeye, who claimed to be their daughter's mentor and guardian. It was an invitation to come and stay with him, that he may facilitate the meeting with their daughter, in his private guest suite. They need only tell the Dock Master their belongings were to be sent to his abode and it would be done for them. The address was included, and Darra, who had been busy taking care of her sick husband through the worst of the weather, had wanted to accept immediately.

Valden, while not completely recovered, was finally feeling himself again with his feet on solid land. He likely would have agreed had he not spotted a fire Dedicate from the local temple overseeing the unloading of some goods. It has been an impulse, asking the young man if he knew of Trisana Chandler. He had seemed surprised at their question but had answered in the affirmative. Kirel was his name, and he knew of her quite well actually. The merchant asked if he knew where she lived, saying they were bringing something to her but didn't know where she was in the city.

He had been happy to provide them with the address and careful directions, wishing them good luck and a blessed day as he went back to his work. Darra had asked only once if he was sure he was up to it; she knew how little rest and food he had been able to take on the voyage, but he had insisted and off they had gone.

They had walked the entire way, and at first, it felt marvelous. The sun was shining, and a brisk breeze of the sea was just enough to keep from being too warm. The streets were busy, but traffic moved along at a decent clip. It wasn't hard to find their way. Halfway there, his legs had begun to flag and his lungs start to wheeze, but the merchant had stubbornly pressed on, telling his concerned wife it couldn't be much further down the road.

By the time they had arrived at the three story house, he had been almost in as foul a mood as he had been on the ship and was sincerely hoping someone would be home so he could, at least, sit and rest a moment, even if it was the wrong residence. The housemaid had been polite when she had answered, and Valden had been impressed with the little that he'd seen of the clean but simple residence. It wasn't until he had spotted the dark-skinned Trader coming down the hall that it had all gone horribly wrong.

He had to admit that it was largely his fault. His temper, never good at the best of times, had been frayed nearly to the bone. Traders didn't settle away from their own, unless they were outsiders, and merchants didn't make friends with Traders. Ever. It was counterproductive to business, so his daughter couldn't possibly be in the house. By his usual standards, it was sound logic, although his words had been less than polite. He probably deserved the reaction he had received for such abominable rudeness but being insulted in turn had only added fuel to the flames. And finding out so abruptly that the daughter they had come to take home was already married had not particularly helped.

In the end, it had been Master Goldeye who had smoothed things over, appearing to whisk them away to his home and give everyone time to cool their tempers and smooth ruffled feathers. He still wasn't sure what to think of the explanations they had been given, though, at least, the young man had guts. He knew how others reacted when his temper was in full swing, and the lad had refused to back down.

Then there had been the dinner that evening and its accompanying guests. The two dedicates had been dressed simply in green habits with wide sleeves and a hood. Dedicate Moonstream was the head of Winding Circle Temple and had come to answer any questions they may have about why she chose the people she did to be in charge of Tris' education and guardianship. Dedicate Rosethorn was in charge of something called Discipline Cottage and was there to answer questions about both Tris and her husband's upbringing. She was also the young man's personal mentor in magic and, therefore, able to answer any questions they may have about him.

Valden had been pleased by what he had learned. If it were true, of course. Priests were supposed to be honest, but he'd known a few in his time that made a corkscrew look straight. Everything would need further investigation.

Still, it sounded like their girl had been raised well. Not in need of anything but also learning to take care of herself. That she had handled the money not only among her foster siblings but also for her teacher at times had been a particular point of pride. Her magic, though...

He understood that magic was not his forte. He was a practical man who trusted in practical things. A well made chair would hold you, and a well made ship shouldn't sink. Goods were only worth what you could convince someone else to pay for them, and until the coin was in your hands, you didn't count it. Mages didn't fit into that scheme, though. And so when Master Goldeye and Honored Dedicate Moonstream had started talking about academic and ambient and intrinsic versus extrinsic power (whatever that meant), he had mostly let his mind wander elsewhere and allow his wife to take the lead. She was, naturally, fascinated by the subject and, apparently, asked several pertinent questions for the discussion that followed lasted nearly to dessert.

Darra had tried to explain what he had missed later, but to be honest, he still hadn't considered it important enough to pay much attention to the details. The important bits were settled, and that's what mattered to him. His daughter was not possessed or inhuman or fey in any way, but she did command some sort of power over winds and rains. The later sounded particularly useful and potentially lucrative, and he made a mental note to ask her about it later.

She had gotten married to a young man of questionable background but unquestionable talent from the way his mentor had spoken of him. Granted, if the Dedicates were to be believed they had not known of the contract until very recently and, therefore, no thought was given to her parents' consent in the match. Insofar as she had known, her parents weren't returning at all. That had displeased him but wasn't her or this current temple's fault. It was that old wretch Dedicate Wrenwing's fault, but she was now dead nearly half a decade. He could only hope the gods had seen fit to handle his retribution for him in the afterlife.

In the present moment, the merchant eyed himself in the mirror, his clean suit of fine wool cut in a conservative style that had been tailored to his stocky figure by the second-best seamstress in Ninver. Never the best, he mused to himself as he checked his cuffs and placed a simple silver pin on his collar. And silver, never gold. Appear prosperous but wise with your money. Wealth with restraint. His boots were of fine leather, untooled and the black skin polished to a soft shine, and his belt was of the same. His single ring was also silver, set with a large moonstone carved into the merchant house sigil.

His wife stepped up beside him, and though her hair now bore traces of silver and her face fine lines, she was just as beautiful as the day he had met her all those years ago. She wore a dress of lighter wool in a deep blue that looked lovely next to his dark grey. It was also conservatively cut, rising to under her chin and falling all the way to the floor but the design still attractively tailored.

"You can stop that now," he said as he met her mildly reproving look with a frown.

"Stop what?" she replied with feigned innocence.

"The look that says, 'I told you so'." The clipped response just made her wry smile grow.

His wife shrugged one shoulder elegantly and murmured, "I would just have prefered to go into a meeting like this without wondering if we've already done irreparable damage to our standing here."

"And by 'we' you mean me." Valden scowled as he gave his cuffs an unnecessarily sharp tug. "I didn't know-"

"No, you didn't," she replied softly. "But this time let's stay civil and stick with the path before us, instead of running off on our own, hm? There is something bothering me about this whole situation, and I cannot figure out what it is, unless you stop bickering long enough for me to do some digging on my own."

Valden paused before asking quietly, "So you noticed it too, then?"

His wife's nod was slight. "They were upset, as they should have been at the way you acted but unusually defensive. As though...we were coming to _harm_ her."

"And then the dinner last night," he added, giving her a knowing look.

"Yes, that too," Darra agreed briskly as she checked her earrings in the mirror. "It was informative to be sure, but it almost left me with more questions than when it began. And it felt too...neat. Our daughter is so busy she could not come to a last minute dinner, but the head of her temple and her foster mother could?"

"Which means there's something we don't know. I don't like not knowing things; it always comes to bite you in the...rear when you don't expect it." Valden's wife accepted her husband's rough edges and short temper, but she drew the line at foul language, and he had no wish to start a second row with her now.

Darra smiled. "Precisely."

-090-

It had been decided the four mages would arrive together, freshly pressed and dressed in their best with Daja and Briar bracketing the pale Tris. Sandry was on Briar's other side, in case Tris needed help in restraining him from doing something rash. They had an hour before lunch began, at the request of Tris' parents, to 'discuss things' before the meal.

"I can keep my temper when I want to," Briar said as they waited for someone to answer the door. "I just didn't want to yesterday. Not after he started being so rude."

"Do you want to now?" Daja asked as her fingers played over her staff, the brass endcap polished to a bright sheen to best show off the intricate carvings there.

"Perhaps, I haven't quite decided yet. I suppose it depends on whether or not they're going to be civil."

"Let's just get this over and done with. I want to convince them and send them on their way and putting their backs up isn't likely to help," Tris said under her breath.

"She's right, you know," Sandry added as she needlessly adjusted the drape of her skirt.

Briar didn't reply, but there was a distinct grumble as he rolled his eyes.

The housekeeper was the one to open the door. The tall, stately woman did not technically work for Niko, as he did not technically own the house. He had been renting it for so many years, though, from a good friend who prefered her life in the country, that it seemed more his than the owner's. His touch could been seen in the tastefully decorated hallway and foyer, items carefully chosen on display in discrete niches or on carved shelves along the way.

Tris took comfort from those she recognized, though she had visited the residence rarely. There was a statue of a goddess carved of jade, from when they had traveled together. A copper bowl Daja had crafted for him one Midwinter. The vase he had insisted on buying from Keth after taking a decided liking to the way it refracted the light that touched it.

They were shown to the formal sitting room, arranged with heavy pieces of brocaded furniture that had been in style almost a century ago and still managed to be more elegant than overbearing. There was a large fireplace at one end and a set of double doors at the other that led directly into the dining room.

Niko gracefully rose to greet them as they entered, his guests following suit as introductions took place among them.

"Master and Mistress Chandler," he said as he stood between the two groups. "May I present Lady Mage Sandrilene fa Toren and her foster siblings Mage Briar Moss, Mage Trisana Moss and Mage Daja Kisubo." It had also been decided that Sandry would lead and the others follow. It would make letting her steer the conversation much easier and, perhaps, put the Chandlers more on their guard.

"Lady Sandrilene," Niko continued smoothly. "May I present Master Valden Chandler and his wife Darra Chandler, of the merchant house Chandler of Ninver."

"A pleasure," Sandry said with a curtsy as her siblings followed suit behind her. Briar's bow was barely deep enough to be polite, but he keep his face smooth and his actions calm. He did notice, as the Chandlers responded in turn, a large stack of papers Valden Chandler had been sorting through before their entrance. Some he immediately recognized: his marriage certificate to Tris and a copy of their official elevation to the rank of mage by Winding Circle. Others he could only guess.

"Please, let us sit," Niko said as he motioned them towards the seats. Darra looked surprised, then a bit hurt when Tris made no move to greet them personally. She quickly masked it, though, and sat with her husband once more. "Master Chandler has been reviewing some paperwork as we awaited your arrival. I believe you have found everything to be in order to your satisfaction?"

"Yes," Valden confirmed as he paused, letting his wife sit first. "Aside from one small matter, but first I must...apologize." The words seemed strained, as though forced through too small an opening. "It seems there were some misunderstandings yesterday. I regret them. It should not have happened, and it will not happen again." He nodded, as though satisfied, and sat.

Daja and Briar exchanged looks over Tris' head, the weather witch sitting silently between them. Neither could tell if he was saying he would not misunderstand again, or if they should not cause him to do so. Sandry, perched on a chair just to the right, nodded gravely.

"That is well, Master Valden. Misunderstandings can cause such discord," she said simply. "What small matter is out of order, if I may ask? I reviewed much of the paperwork with Master Niko before it was signed and should all be accounted for."

"Perhaps small is the wrong word, for it is certainly important to us. I am referring to the bride price."

"It was negotiated and paid," Niko replied as Briar felt Tris tense beside him.

 _We took care of it,_ he told her absently, putting a hand over hers as he watched Valden's face closely. He seemed pleased, but wary.

 _When?_

 _First thing we did._

"Where is it now?" Valden asked, setting the papers he held aside and rubbing his hands briskly.

"The papers are in my office and the money a well-guarded place. Both will be handed to you whenever you wish," Niko replied amicably, his tone steady and light.

 _Oh. You never told me._ He thought he detected a note of worry in her words and would have normally stopped right then to investigate it. Normally.

 _Had other things on my mind, sorry._ The reply was automatic, his attention still mainly on the merchant who was now looking thoughtful.

"Then perhaps you could send someone for the papers now?" Valden suggested. "I would like to review them while Master Moss and yourself are here to discuss any points I have questions about."

"After lunch, then," Niko deflected quickly. "We can retire to my office and review them in private. It will give the ladies time to talk without the men in the way."

Valden blinked slowly, glancing at the four young people sitting across from him before turning back to the great mage. "What need is there for privacy? These are their close friends and confidants, yes? Surely, they know the details already and will hopefully not be too bored by going over them again."

The silence that followed was leaden. Valden's brows rose slowly.

"It is not considered a polite topic of conversation in Emelan," said Niko. "Even among close friends."

"Then who _does_ know the details?"

"Myself and Briar."

The merchant clan head let out a long, slow breath as his face began to redden, the heated flush extending below his collar as his wife laid a hand on his arm to stop whatever he was about to say.

"Pardon me," Darra said in a faintly shocked tone. "But you seem to imply that Tris does not know the details of her bride price."

 _Briar, how much did you pay?_ Tris asked, a note of desperation in her mental voice.

Briar, answering both women unintentionally, said, "No."

"Why not?" the two words were ground from between Valden's clenched teeth. "You led us to believe she was well and mentally stable, Master Goldeye. Is that not true? Is she _incapable_..."

"I am _quite_ mentally capable," Tris snapped as her own temper finally flared to life. "And I would thank you not to speak like I am not here." Valden's teeth clicked shut as he stared at his daughter, the color draining from his skin. Tris ignored him and turned to Briar. "We need to speak, _husband_ ," she said, the last word like the crack of a whip. "Now."

She did not bother to wait and see if he would follow, simply standing and striding out the door they had entered from. A moment later he did, looking more that slightly irritated and trading confused looks with Niko as he went. The great-mage was just as lost as he as to what had taken place. The older man turned to Sandry who was giving him a sympathetic but still disapproving look.

 _I feel sorry for Briar,_ she told Daja as the smith mage was just as confused as the men. _And Niko, she's going to be furious with him too._

 _Why? What's going on?_

 _My guess? Briar and Niko tried to do something to help all of this on their own, and somehow have completely bungled it._

 _Briar's not blocking me. Do you think it would be rude to listen in?_

 _No, he's probably hoping we'll help him get out of whatever mess he got himself in._

-090-

Tris led the way to Niko's office, the room safe to enter for any, even if it was the most heavily guarded room in the building. It was also the only room she knew no one would be able to listen in on, and she wasn't sure she wouldn't be shouting by the end of it.

Briar followed, closing the door behind himself once he was through. "What's the big deal?" he groused as soon as they were private. "Niko told me it needed to be done, and I took care of it, and Niko's holding the money for me so it's all nice and legal. End of story."

"Briar..." Tris closed her eyes and sighed, trying to remind herself that he had not been trying to insult her on purpose. It was still hard not to shout. "Briar, the bride price is not just about the money. I'd rather you had not paid it at all than done this, hidden behind closed doors keeping it secret."

"Why?"

"Because it's a sign of shame or insult. If a bride price was paid it's to be, at least, known by the family and friends, if not announced at the wedding itself, and everyone debates about who got the best of the bargain. The price is only hidden if there is reason to be ashamed of it. If, for example, the groom's family pays far too much as a bribe so their son is considered at all, or if they pay next to nothing to compensate for...damaged goods as it were."

"Oh, Mila, Tris I didn't...I was trying to do you a _favor_..."

"I know, but think of how that just looked to them. Not only did our _family_ not know, _I_ didn't know. That is the other thing. The price is to let the bride know how highly valued she is or is not by the family taking her in. Everything has a value, when it comes down to it Briar, not knowing yours means you don't know your place in the family."

"Then it that case we might be in trouble." He grimaces. "I was going to pay more, but Niko advised against it. Partially because I didn't have that much more in ready coin available..."

"You'd better let me see the contract," Tris sighed. "It's too late to change it now, but, at least, I can help you support your arguments, if he tries to contest the price." She wasn't sure what to expect when he handed her the paper, but she wasn't surprised Briar hadn't paid that much. Who would for a wife you weren't going to keep?

"Niko doesn't think he will," Briar replied quickly, as if realizing how she had taken his words. "And I think the contract is fine, too. I just wish I had paid more because I didn't know about it showing your place in the family."

"Well, that's good but let me see it just in case."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. Why don't we talk about it tonight? With Sandry and Daja." _So they can hopefully back me up,_ he thought to himself.

"Briar..." Tris tried not to let it show as her stomach dropped to her toes. "How much _did_ you pay?"

-090-

Valden came back to himself to find his wife watching him quietly. "She...she..."

"Sounded just like your sister, I know," she finished for him in a low tone when he could not bring himself to say more. "If there was ever any doubt she is our Trisana Chandler, I would say it has been firmly laid to rest."

"Yes. Yes, it has. I didn't expect...it was though she had just stepped into the room. She's been dead nearly ten years, but if I'd only heard and not seen, I would have sworn it was her."

"And I think we can say for certain she is in control of her wits," Darra went on soothingly. "And if I am not mistaken giving that handsome husband of hers a quick lesson in his cultural misstep." Valden glowered slightly, and she swallowed her laugh. "Oh, don't sulk dear; he's too tall and too young for my taste as you should well know."

Whatever he had been about to say in reply was forgotten as the two young women across from them suddenly stiffened as one and traded wide-eyed glances of shock and surprise. Neither opened their mouths, but Valden would have sworn they were conversing as though actual words were exchanged. One lowered her brows slightly. The other twitched her broad shoulders in a faint shrug. A flash of disbelief was met with one of annoyance, and then both seemed to sigh as though reaching a conclusion. The exchange had only lasted moments, but he also noticed their host was watching intently as though it told him something important.

The door opened a moment later, Briar leading the way with a blank-faced Tris a step behind him.

"I apologize for the interruption to our conversation, and the misunderstanding my ignorance caused," he said politely as he bowed slightly to the Chandlers. "I did not know how my actions would be taken. I am not ashamed of Tris or of marrying her. She has great value to myself and our family. Here is the contract you requested. I cannot get the money for you as it is in Niko's possession, but I am sure he will hand it to you directly at your request."

"Misunderstandings happen, as we well know," Darra replied as her husband took the folded papers, immediately sorting through them to begin reading. "Hopefully, this truly will be the end of them..." Her voice trailed off as her husband went very still beside her, staring at something on the paper in his hand.

"I believe there may have been a mistake," he said at last, looking up slowly from the paper. "Whoever copied the document did not do so with accuracy."

"There are no mistakes," Briar replied firmly. "I checked it myself."

Valden stared at the young man, glanced down at the paper in front of him, and back up again. "And where exactly," he asked carefully. "Did you come by your wealth?"

"I own a very lucrative and exclusive shakkan based business," he replied steadily. "I grow and shape the majority of what I sell on my own. Occasionally, there will be a shakkan I find that is incorrectly shaped, if I am able I correct it. I am widely sought for my trees, for they are not only beautiful but also magical in nature."

"How much did he pay?" Darra asked, glancing over her husband's shoulder.

"Six gold majas."

It was perhaps the lack of reaction that was the more surprising part of the young man's pronouncement. Darra's eyes had widened slightly, but that was all and no more than he had expected from her. Master Goldeye frowned, also as expected, after the way he had argued against making the sum publically known. Trisana, her face mostly blank, had let her lips thin every so slightly. So she was not pleased, he thought, though with what he wasn't sure. Her foster sisters, though, had just blinked. As if they had already known and were receiving confirmation alone. But how...?

"I believe," Briar said as he moved back to the couch, Tris following, "That if you read through the detailed list of her qualifications and accomplishments you will find exactly how good a deal I bargained for myself."

Valden took his time getting to that part of the document, and by that point Sandry and Daja were getting worried about how on edge Tris had become. It was, of course, about the price. But here, now, they needed her relaxed and able to respond without losing her temper or her patience.

Valden's brows rose as he got to the top of the list. "Look dear, one of your daughters finally took after you. She is an accomplished cook."

 _You are the best of us four_ Daja admitted ruefully for her siblings benefit alone. _Briar's passable, and I'm a little better but Sandry..._

The stitch witch generally treated this lack of ability as a sore point, but she caught the gist of Daja's intention and played along for once with mock offense. _I'm not_ that _bad. I merely don't have as many opportunities to practice as all three of you_. _And at least_ I _don't cook food that sets your mouth on fire._

 _It's supposed to taste that way,_ Briar replied in amusement. _Unlike your cake that one time..._

"She also runs your combined household...?" This was addressed to the group as a whole, cutting their internal conversation short for the moment.

"Tris manages the cook, housekeeper, maids and manservant when she is in residence," Daja confirmed steadily. "I never even need to think about checking behind their work or seeing to their purchases, she takes care of all of it and at extremely good prices as well."

"Which leads nicely into the next point, that she is a skilled negotiator," Valden replied in approval.

 _Usually because they're too busy trying to fleece me for being a noble or Daja for being a trader_ Sandry grumbled. _And either too busy flirting with Briar or trying to keep him away from the shop girls to actually sell him anything._ Daja's lips twitched with amusement, and Briar covered his grin with a cough. Tris didn't react, but the tension in her shoulders had faded slightly.

"I was a Chandler," she replied steadily, as though it was all that needed to be said. Valden smiled as though pleased and moved on.

"An accreditation in ambient magic and a licensure in academic. Yes, you said something about this last night Master Goldeye, correct? Is this common?"

"There are two separate schools of magic in how it is studied and applied," Niko said smoothly, though he wondered that the man hadn't remembered from the night before. "And it is rare for a mage to earn both, practically unheard of at her age. Of the many teachers these four have encountered, I am the only one who carries both as well. And I was much older when I earned my second one."

 _Overachiever._ This comment came from Briar, and held a hint of long suffering dramatics. _She always has to have one more than everyone else._ This did get a reaction, and the look she shot him was unamused. She stopped when she realized Darra had noticed, and was glancing between them in puzzlement.

"Journeyman glassmaker," Valden continued, oblivious to the byplay. Pausing, he looked at Tris in bemusement. "Really?"

 _I think she does it on purpose to make us look bad_ Daja interjected blithely. _Sibling rivalry, that sort of thing._

 _I can see that,_ Sandry replied knowingly. _She was getting ready to leave again to study more. Not for another accreditation she said, but you never know..._

"Yes," she replied, unsure of what else to say and trying with limited success to ignore her siblings.

"Why?"

"I was interested in it and happened to have a student who was able to teach me about it in turn."

 _I can't believe I forgot to list that!_ Briar's self recrimination was not entirely feigned, and Daja had to hide a snort of laughter in a cough of her own. _Two students by the age of fourteen. That's it, I definitely underpaid, and my reputation is ruined forever!_

"You've already had your own student?" Valden was impressed despite himself. She was not yet 21, to have had a mage student of her own already...

The struggle to ignore her siblings as Daja agreed solemnly that Briar's reputation was indeed ruined forever echoed in the back of her thoughts. It was having the intended effect, though, and her voice was steady and clear as she spoke. "It wasn't my choice, but yes. Someone needed my help, and earning the medallion means giving that help when it required. As it happens, glass is one of the few materials that works well with lightning. The knowledge has been very useful in my work."

Valden looked like he wanted to say something else, but a nudge from his wife brought him back to the document at hand. "A key defender of Emelan in the pirate attack instigated by Pirate-Queen Pauha and her mage brother Enahar, at age 11." This time he gave her and her siblings no time to reply, going straight to the next point. "Assistant to Dedicate Crane during the outbreak of the blue pox. Helped saving the Valley of Golden Ridge from a raging forest fire, and in the process ending a deadly drought. Saved Tenth Caravan Idaram from imminent destruction by a forest fire. Assisted in the capture of a mass murderer in Tharios. Saved Third Caravan Saralan from a cracked dam while traveling. Able to tie wind into ropes. Faced down Ishabel Ladyhammer and _won_..."

The room had gone still as Valden had continued his litany, his voice growing higher than he had realized it could go as he said words and phrases that he understood but wouldn't seem to fit together in his mind. Finally, he stopped, looking up at Niko who was somehow insufferably smug without changing his expression of polite interest a whit.

"Is this all true?"

"Yes. For the most part, I can produce multiple eye witnesses who will swear under truth spell that what you read is what happened. For the rest, myself or one of these three witnessed it and are willing to stand before the mage of your choice to swear under truth spell that it is true. The four of them have accomplished remarkable things in their time together, both individually and cooperatively."

Valden looked once more at the list before folding it up to tuck into his coat pocket. "I believe you. And I believe I am satisfied with her bride price. I will accept the money from you at your earliest convenience, Master Goldeye."

"Of course. I will see to it directly after lunch."

"Very good."

"Will we be enjoying your presence for long, Master Chandler?" This came from Sandry, as Niko settled back in his seat looking very pleased indeed.

Valden turned to the young noblewoman and inclined his head slightly. "For a time yet, I believe, " he said calmly. "We understand, of course, that Master Goldeye was free to allow Trisana to marry whomever he chose, by the terms set forth in our contract. But we must be satisfied with it as well. I am convinced that the marriage is legal, that the bride price is fairly set and paid and that untangling it all would be difficult and costly." The pause that followed was filled with a surge of relief that quickly turned to dread as he continued, "I am not convinced it is not worth the effort and cost. You are young to be married, daughter, and young people can be foolish as easily as the old. We will learn more about your young man before deciding whether or not he is fit to be your husband and you his wife."

Briar froze in his seat, almost snarling the word that burst from his lips. " _Fit_..!"

Valden's gaze was sharp, and reminded Briar of Tris's glare so much that he almost forgot his anger. The merchants words quickly dispelled that, though. "Yes, young man, fit. A mage you may be, wealthy you may be, that does not make you _worthy_ of a _Chandler_."

 _And here I though Sandry's family pride was bad_ Daja sighed, trying to lighten the oppressive dread that was resonating across their bond.

 _Briar, close your mouth,_ Tris suddenly interjected, her tone sharp.

 _What?!_ Briar shot back, clearly preparing himself for a verbal assault.

Tris' response was just in time to bring him up short. _He's baiting you, don't rise to it._

 _I'd very much like to turn him into bait..._ But the thief did as he was bid, and said nothing more.

Darra caught sight of it this time, too, the traded glances and shifting bodies as though words had been exchanged though none had been spoken. The young man in question had looked close to exploding a moment before. Now, he sat back coolly with his hands laced together on his chest. She noticed then that his hands were covered in something green. Gloves, she decided, before dismissing it from her mind. Mages and their silly affectations.

"So he can keep his temper," she said approvingly. "Although, he doesn't look as pretty pouting."

"I am not pouting," he replied flatly. "Rosethorn wouldn't approve."

"Rosethorn? Dedicate Rosethorn?"

"The same," Niko agreed.

"We had the honor of meeting her last night at dinner. She is a great mage, is she not?"

"She is," Niko confirmed smoothly. "And known for not taking many students, actually. That she agreed to teach Briar is somewhat of a miracle."

"You must be exceedingly lucky, then," Darra said with a small smile.

"I am," Briar agreed gravely as he pointedly took Tris' hand in his. The significance was not lost on Darra, nor was the way her daughter flushed faintly.

"Ah." Darra's brows go even higher. Tactfully, she switched her attention to Sandry. "I am afraid magic doesn't run often in our family, so there is much we don't know. For example, what is your specialization, Lady Sandrilene, if it is not rude to ask?"

For the first time, Sandry genuinely smiled. "It is not. I am what is known as a stitch-witch. My power comes from cloth and threads and weavings of any kind."

"She is the only known stitch-witch who can weave pure magic," Niko added in his most helpful voice. "And caught a pair of assassins in a net of it. Even her teacher, Dedicate Lark, who is a stitch-witch and a great mage, cannot do that."

"I had help," the stitch-witch was quick to add, waving her hand as though to diminish her own part in it all. "The weaving was mine, but the crafting of the charm was done by Pasco. They would not have walked into the trap without his assistance."

Darra tilted her head at this new name. "And Pasco is...?"

"My former student."

"He is a stitch-witch as well?"

The laugh that burst from Sandry was also genuine, and Darra decided she would probably like the slim brunette very much had they met under other circumstances. "Oh, Mila no! He's a dance mage. He is traveling now; I have letters from him now and then, but he really is a terrible correspondent."

"Forgive me for my ignorance, but how does a 'stitch-witch' come to teach a dance mage?" Darra was interested, more than she realized, and she forgot her original purpose in this conversation in pursuit of answers.

"I am the one who discovered his magic, and so I was the one saddled with keeping him in line until a proper teacher could be found," Sandry explained lightly. "Yazmin was quite helpful, though, and between us we were able to manage well enough for a time. He is still, technically, my student, as he hasn't been awarded his medallion yet, but he is traveling with some former students of Yazmin's, and they are studying under great teachers of the dancing arts in other cities."

"Yazmin. As in _the_ Yazmin?" It was the first comment Valden had interjected for some time, and it was delivered with a surprising amount of eagerness.

"Yes," Sandry confirmed with an amused look on her face. "She has settled in Emelan to open a school of dance. She still performs on occasion. She's an absolutely beautiful dancer."

Valden agreed quietly, "Yes, she is." He did not need to look to the side to sense the displeasure that suddenly rolled off his wife. The wise husband quickly changed the subject. "And you, Trisana are a weather-witch, correct?"

"Yes, I am," she affirmed, her tension from before all but gone.

"And what does that mean, precisely? Do you...make rain fall from the sky on demand? Or...?"

"I can," she replied slowly, clearly choosing her words with care. "If the conditions are right, but it is a good deal more complicated than that. I have some control over most aspects of weather: wind, rain, clouds, lightning...but I cannot simply make it appear. It must already exist for me to manipulate. The larger the manipulation, the harder it is, and the larger it is the more dangerous it is. It is difficult, without a great deal of study, to know what ramifications moving a storm can have on the weather that is to follow. There are other applications of my craft, but they tend to be violent. I refuse to use my magic that way."

"Her control is quite impressive," Master Goldeye interjected lightly, drawing their attention away from the polite mask Tris' face had settled into. "I have seen her accomplish feats far beyond what most of my peers could do."

"I've seen her use lightning bolts to fuse wires together," added Briar helpfully. "Small ones, too. It was sort of a game we played in Discipline Cottage as children."

 _You forgot to add that I hit the table nearly as often as the wires_ , Tris said dryly.

 _What they don't know can't hurt them_. Briar could not have been more smug.

Valden, for some reason, looked extremely uncomfortable. His wife gamely picked up the thread of the conversation from him, and turned to Daja. "And you Mistress Kisubo?"

The young woman nodded her head gravely, a slight smile lifting one corner of her mouth. "Just Daja, please. My specialization is in metal crafting. I am a smith-mage."

"Blacksmith? Silversmith? Goldsmith?"

"All of them. Any type of metal speaks to me, and I am able to craft it." Valden couldn't quite hide his snort of disbelief, and the Trader's brows rose slightly. Standing, she motioned to Darra's wrist where an elegantly wrought bracelet lay. "May, I?" she asked, motioning to the piece. Uncertainly, the merchant held her arm out, and Daja touched the piece with a single finger tip. For a moment, she closed her eyes in silence, then began to speak.

"This is silver, pure silver, and it is very old. It has been in your family for, at least, three generations. It's also been well cared for. You regularly polish it and have it inspected for damage. There was a break in the big swirl...here." Her fingertip moved slightly to one side, and Darra could only nod in shock. "More than five years ago, I think. It was repaired by a Master craftsman with a touch of magic. He did excellent work repairing it. The piece is...fond perhaps is not the right word but it is the best I can think of right now. It is fond of you."

Darra's face was lit with wonder as she breathed, "It knows me?"

"Yes and no. It's complicated." Daja shrugged as she lifted her hand away and rubbed at her brass-covered palm absently. "To you, the metal will always be a dead thing. But to me it is...almost alive. Almost. It can't think or feel as you do, but it does react to your interactions with it in a way. You take care of it, as have those before you, and it is treasured. It does not know what that means, or why, but it somehow senses that this is good. That it is...right? It is...content...?" Frustrated, Daja paused in her attempt and looked to her siblings.

"It is hard to explain to someone who isn't a mage," Sandry added wryly as she shared an understanding smile her sister. "There just aren't the right words to convey what interacting with your craft feels like."

"But you are able to understand what she means?" Darra asked as she ran speculative fingers over the silver bracelet.

Sandry shook her head slightly, her smile wry. "Only in the context of my own gift. To me, metal is the same as it is to you. But cloth...take wool, for example. In my mind, it is friendly, and sometimes, too much so. You must be firm with it, or it will scatter everywhere and your thread will be uneven and weak. But not too firm; for if it fears you, it will clump and knot and refuse to be spun at all. And yet, that it isn't exactly right, either. It lives no more than your bracelet, but how do I explain what I feel to someone who has never felt it's like before?"

"And suddenly why mages always flock together seems to make more sense," Valden murmured almost too quietly to hear. "It would be very...lonely I think, not to have someone around to discuss such things with."

"Yes," Tris agreed in an equally quiet voice. "It would."

It was Darra who saved the conversation again from dying completely, seizing on something she had noticed before. "That is an unusual piece you wear, Daja. I do not think I've seen one like it."

"That is probably because it's not jewelry," Daja replied as she extended her brass covered palm for inspection. "It's a part of me, same as my skin or my nails. A magical accident from when I was younger."

"It grows?" Darra couldn't seem to help herself, placing one finger on the shiny brass before adding, "It's _warm_!"

Daja's lips quirked in amusement. It was not her first time trying to explain her hand. "Yes."

"She's made wonderful things with it, too," Sandry added, obviously proud. "A leg for someone who had lost theirs, an eye to replace one that had been lost. Glasses and earbuds to help block magic. A mirror that reflects magical talents. You made a hand recently too, didn't you?"

"I did."

"And she makes living trees and plants from metal," Briar said with a grin. "With my help."

"I can do it without you, it just takes longer. Much longer. And with less variety." She grinned back, coming back to her seat on the other side of Tris.

Valden perked up at that, eyes turning to Daja. "Wait, you mean you're the one who makes the living metal plants for Tenth Caravan Idaram?"

"Yes. I do not always have new ones when they come by, but they always check."

"How did you discover such a thing?"

"It's..." Her siblings joined almost absently. "Complicated."

Valden looks a little bewildered. "And here I always thought magic was simple. That it made life simple."

"Most people do, until they start to study it," Niko laughed with a touch of sympathy in his voice. "Then they learn the truth, that it is as complicated, if not more so than anything else in life. You cannot snap your fingers and solve the world's problems in a day. It simply doesn't work that way." The irony that colored his words was also plain on his face, and he exchanged a knowing look with the young mages.

Lunch was announced, and Niko conducted his guests to the table set with a simple repast next door. Once seated, the mage proceeded to take charge of the conversation and masterfully steered it to innocuous topics of his choice for the rest of the meal. As the head of the table, that was of course his right. But Niko had learned how to steer even the most cantankerous of mages at times, two merchants who were only trying to ask questions didn't have a chance.

He asked Daja about her latest caravan visit, about who she had seen and what news there was of the other caravans in the area. The trader had lightly remarked that it was good to see Chandrisa and Polyma again, and that they had brought with them many interesting items from the south. She had, of course, looked over their metal work before they moved on, but having inspected it only six months ago, she was not surprised it was still in good shape. He asked Sandry about how her work for Verdis was going, mentioning his name and giving no title as casually as one might any other close friend. She replied primly that Uncle was doing well, and work continued apace. At the very least, it looked like there would be no serious threats on the pirate front this year, and everyone was glad of that.

After that, Valden stopped trying to change the subject and, instead, listened with interest.

Briar was next, and the young man described the week he'd spent with Rosethorn, touring the farms around Winding Circle and inspecting the orchards to the west. They had managed to stave off a potentially disastrous infestation of parasitic fungi from one field, and Rosethorn had been pleased.

"I would ask about your work as well," Niko commented to Tris who sat to his immediate right. "But I know you prefer not to talk about it. Does it at least go well?"

"As well as can be hoped," she replied with a faint smile. "And your own?"

"About the same," he admitted with a grimace. "Floods of images, and not a clue how they fit together...anyone who insists they can accurately read the future is either lying or mad. How is Glaki getting on?"

Tris wasn't aware of how her face lit up when she spoke of her fosterling, but Niko was. He encouraged her to continue when she would have stopped at a mere, "She is well, thank you."

In truth, she didn't need much encouragement. Glaki was a constant source of amazement for the weather witch, and it showed as she described the young girl's lessons and how much she had grown.

Darra waited until a lull in the storytelling to ask, "And who is this child...?"

"Tris' foster daughter," Niko said with glowing pride. "We found her while traveling through Tharios. Her mother and foster mother were murdered, and we never knew of a father. Tris took responsibility for her there and has been supporting her ever since."

"She is, technically, a ward of the temple right now," Tris added dryly. "And Rosethorn and Lark are her foster mothers there, in Discipline Cottage. She takes her lessons with the other temple children, and is getting basic lessons in magic as well. Eventually, she'll probably attend Lightsbridge for her certification."

"Is there a reason why she is not living with you?" Valden asked carefully.

"Yes," Tris replied; her voice becoming clipped. "I was fourteen when we met and not ready to be a mother. And when we returned here, I ended up leaving again shortly afterward. First to Namorn, with my siblings. Then to Lightsbridge, to receive my accreditation there in academic magic. In both cases, another journey was not what she needed. She understands that now, and I have promised that when she graduates, if she wishes, she has a place with me. The temple has become her home, however, and I would not take that from her before she is ready to leave."

"How do you feel about that?" Darra asked, looking at Briar quizzically.

"Glaki is always welcome in our home," Briar replied with a smile. "She's a good kid, and we get along well. And there's a chance Evvy will come with her, they're almost like sisters at Discipline."

"And Evvy is...?"

"My first student, an orphan girl from Chammur. She is a stone mage, so I was only able to give her the very basics, but she has a good teacher at Winding Circle. Unlike Glaki, though, she will be able to remain with her teacher there until she earns her certification. And with as strongly gifted as she is, she will probably have people bidding for her attention long before that happens."

"And now you want to know what I think of these plans," Daja said before Valden could open his mouth. The man still nodded. The trader's smile was full of teeth, but her words held no malice as she said, "Talented mages took in four children with no homes and gave them a future. How could I do any less than had been done for me? Our students and friends will always be welcome under my roof."

Niko took back over the conversation then, turning and asking Darra if they had traveled this way before and what she thought of the weather along the way. What followed neatly filled the rest of the meal, and before they knew it the four were bidding Niko and their guests goodbye.

"We will see you again soon, Tris," Darra said as she stepped forward to place a kiss on Tris' cheek. The weather witch accepted the gesture stiffly, then turned to Niko who was given a warm hug.

The older man accepted it and whispered, "I am sorry about the contract. I was-"

"I know," she replied with a slight smile, moving to the mount Briar was holding beside his own. He gave her a boost, as usual, then turned to help Sandry as well. Daja was already in her saddle and talking to the guards Darra and Valden noticed for the first time.

"Who are they for?" Valden asked as the men fell into place around the small quartet.

"Lady Sandry," Niko replied with affected flippancy. "Her uncle, the Duke, is very particular about her safety."

"The Duke? Verdis...as in Duke Verdis?"

"The same. He is quite attached to those four, but especially his niece. She lives with him at the palace, and is more involved with management of Emelan and its surrounding environs than the current heir. There's a great many who are hoping he'll skip over his rather lackluster son and give the job to her, instead, when he retires. I'm one of them."

"Ah."

There didn't seem to be any more to say after that.

-090-

Authors Notes:

And that, my friends, are the Chandlers. There are still many surprises in store all around, so be sure not to wander off any time soon. :)

The Bargain: 20 reviews. 20 good reviews guys, and you could have the next chapter immediately, as soon as this evening in fact. Perhaps you need something to sweeten the deal? I can promise you Chapter 5 is 25 pages long, includes fluff and fluff and anger and fluff, and momentum is definitely gained in the story. Intrigued? You should be.

First anonymous reviewer, thank you! Second anonymous reviewer: wish granted! Totally laughed when I saw your review just before I posted.

I hope to be seeing you all again soon, but if not next Chapter will be up next Friday as promised.

Cheers!

~CB~


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Valden was not surprised when the first thing his wife did upon entering their suite was dismiss the maid. She then proceeded to remove her jewelry and place it carefully in its holders while saying over her shoulder, "Dear, would you mind helping me with these buttons? It is so hard to manage what you cannot see, and I would like to change into something more comfortable."

It was an old ploy, and while Valden doubted the great mage would listen in on their conversations, there were rules about that sort of thing, there were also habits. Espionage was common among the merchant houses, and though Valden frequently let his temper slip, he rarely let his guard down on his tongue, even in private.

"Is it just me," his wife asked almost under her breath as she began to unpin her hair. "Or do you also feel like a young apprentice sent to the Master's office for the first time?"

"You think they were trying to over impress us," he replied just as quietly. "Awe us with their power and connections."

"Well, I am impressed, certainly," Darra snorted as she put the her bracelet away with more care than usual. "Even if only half of it were true, I would be impressed, and I do not believe they lied us. It would be too easy to discover the truth, and Niklaren Goldeye is bound by the laws of the Mage's Council. Still..."

"Still, why is it necessary to impress us so much?" he finished for her darkly. "If this had been lunch with another merchant family I would say we had received a polite warning. Or threat."

Darra frowned in the mirror, meeting her husband's eyes in the glass. "What have we done to deserve that? Perhaps, it is just a mage practice, to show off before those who do not have your abilities?"

"Mmm, perhaps. But that does not seem right to me, either."

"You did mean what you said about the young man, of course," she went on as he mentally chewed over the conundrum. "We don't know much about him, aside from the little we've been told. And all of it comes from Master Goldeye or the dedicates from last night."

Valden agreed with a short nod. "We will need to investigate him thoroughly. They may not have lied, but they may have omitted part of the truth. There is something else bothering me."

"Mm?" His wife's mouth held a pin as she removed others from her hair, but she was listening nonetheless.

"I almost feel silly for saying it," the merchant admitted, "but...do you feel like we were missing entire sections of the conversation?"

"As though they were speaking amongst themselves in some way we could not perceive or hear?" Darra replied in relief. "Yes, I did after awhile. It was...disconcerting."

Valden breathed out a sigh of his own. "I am glad to know it was not just me." Still, neither had any idea of what it could possibly be. They talked further, the man helping his wife out of one dress and into another before they settled at the table together and began to plan.

-090-

The ride had been quiet, all talk flying between them through their link as they shared details they had noticed about the merchant couple. And at the fact that they meant to stay for awhile. It had been, perhaps, too high a hope that they would only have to deal with them personally for a week or so. Sandry was still hopeful that it might take less than a moon, but Daja only shook her head. Tris wouldn't even turn twenty for another two moons, and until then they could still make trouble. Why would they leave before that? The debate was dropped when Tris pointed out that, if they were half as stubborn as she was, they wouldn't leave until they were good and ready, and there was nothing anyone of them could do about it.

Briar had been right; the girls had helped him when they'd returned home and the contract was brought out for everyone to see. He really had done his research, not only had he listed all the accomplishments and events mentioned by the Chandlers, there had also been her work at the Landreg Estates, her assistance in their escape from Namorn, a number of smaller accomplishments from when they had still lived at the temple, and the fact that she could now scry on the wind. Tris had not been pleased to see that on the paper, but Sandry and Daja were right that it made the list all the more impressive to have it included.

Then came the part that really upset her, it wasn't that he went through how intelligent she was or how respected her opinion and breadth of knowledge was in many circles. It wasn't that her health was good and she took care to maintain it. It wasn't even how he had listed her skills as a homemaker and mother-figure, and his supposition that she would be a great mother to her own children in time. It was when he had gone on to list her _physical_ attractions. Daja had smiled a bit too knowingly when she'd been reading over her shoulder at the weather witch's obvious discomfort, but while it was uncomfortable knowing Briar had considered her in this light, that wasn't the real problem. It was the fact that if everything he had listed was true, and he had sworn it was, then it wasn't her physical looks that kept her from finding someone. Or her personality, because as Sandry had pointed out between Rosethorn and Lark some people liked a prickly personality. It was her magic. Because of her magic, she had married her brother who didn't love her like that. Because no one else, despite everything listed that Briar swore weighed heavily in her favor, would.

And then there was the price. The gods-cursed _price_ that she would _never_ be able to pay back. Not without doing the sort of things she despised. Not without doing war magic.

She had to work hard to reassure them that she understood why Briar had done it that way. That she accepted what he had written as true (from his point of view, though she kept that part to herself) and that she was grateful her parents had accepted it and wouldn't be suing them over it. Then, she had gathered up what remained of her pride and retreated upstairs to her room, saying she wasn't hungry and needed some time to meditate.

"Something is still bothering her," Sandry said as their sister disappeared up the stairs, idly flipping through the pages upon pages of Briar's notes. It was an impressive document, she had to admit.

"It's the money," Daja replied as she sipped her tea and tapped the sheet with the coin counts listed. "She can't pay you back. I know she's been a mage longer than a merchant now, but the merchant still slips through now and then. That money is gone, Briar; you won't get it back from her parents now, and she can't pay you back herself."

The curse Briar muttered was strong enough that Sandry usually would have chastised him for the language. But Daja laid a hand on her arm, and she contented herself with a disapproving frown as the ex-thief laid his head on the table and growled.

"She doesn't earn nearly as much as the rest of us do," Daja went on in a quieter voice. "We know that; we just don't think about it much. The ways that it would show doesn't because of how things work out. She couldn't afford the clothes Sandry makes, ever. But she accepts them because Briar and I do too. She couldn't afford to live in a house like this. But she accepts it because you do, Briar. As a gift. She couldn't afford to go traveling to Namorn, but the Duke paid for all four of us, so she accepted that too. And what money she does make beyond what she needs to maintain herself and make more charms or wind-ropes is used to pay for Glaki. I know several people, including Dedicate Moonstream, have offered to take over paying the boarding fees at Winding Circle, but she insists. She doesn't have the coin to pay you back, not so long as she doesn't accept a job with some lord or queen or empress and not so long as she's supporting Glaki."

It was Sandry who cursed this time, muttering it to herself just loud enough to be heard as she rose to her feet and unnecessarily straightened her skirt. "Well, she won't accept money from me to pay you back, so I can't help you there."

"Or me," Daja added.

"And I need to get back to the Citadel, I am supposed to attend a dinner with Uncle tonight and am going to be rushed getting ready as it is," Sandry added as she turned towards the door.

"But what am I going to do?" Briar groaned as he lifted his head from the table and stared at both sisters pleadingly.

The two traded looks and shrugged. "That you're going to have to figure out for yourself," Sandry said for both of them. "And honestly, it serves you right for doing this behind our backs. We might have been able to help, if we'd known sooner. Made arrangements somehow...I could have made part of it a gift for the wedding. She couldn't have refused it then. But now, it's too late, and fixing it will have to be your job."

The ex-thief decided it couldn't hurt to put it off as they both left the room and moved his plate back over in front of him. Lunch had been dainties and fripperies, nothing to stick to a fella's ribs when he needed the strength. The cook, anticipating this, had prepared a tray of cold meat and cheese for their return, and Briar set into his meal with a will.

When he finally did go upstairs after finishing his food and spending some time in his garden, he found Tris seated on the circular rug she frequently used for meditation. There were traces of her magic around its edge, and he had felt her wrapped in one of her shields earlier, but now she just sat.

"Tris?" The only indication she had heard him was the slight inclination of her head. "Coppercurls, please don't make this harder…"

"I'm not trying to!" she replied hoarsely, turning to face him with wide eyes. "I just…I don't…six gold majas, Briar? _Six gold majas?!"_

"I showed you the written contract," he replied slowly, feeling his way bit by bit as much with his words as through the bond. She was mostly blocking him, but there was no lightning and that was also a good sign. "Do you disagree with it? Or say I should have paid less?"

"I can't," she agreed grudgingly; her father probably would have taken Briar to court if the price had been significantly lower. Not with the way the contract was worded. And she also understood why it was important he make the bargain look attractive on his end,;otherwise, why would he have married her? "But I also can't imagine anyone would ever actually pay that amount…I didn't _know_ you had that much."

Briar shrugged, he didn't discuss how much he sold his trees for and merely said, "Business has been good since we got back."

"I can't pay you back." The words were strained as though forced from her mouth.

The plant mage sighed, "I didn't do it so you would have to. Really, I don't want you to."

"Regardless, you shouldn't have had to pay that much, I'm not worth…"

"Yes, you are!" Briar wasn't the one prone to bursts of temper of the two, but the day had frayed his nerves as far as they would go. "Lakik's teeth, Tris, stop pretending you're as worthless as they've treated you!"

Tris stood as she faced him, the mulish look in her eye reminiscent of Sandry. "I'm crabby, fat, and short," she shot back hotly. "And no one in their right mind will ever want to marry me."

Briar took a step closer, and though he was no longer yelling his voice had lost none of its intensity. "That is _not_ true, and I want you to stop talking like that, or else."

"Or else what?" she asked dryly, hands on her hips.

"Or else I'll have to come up with a punishment," he replied as a wicked grin began to grow on his face. "And the more trouble I have to go through, the more you'll be in."

Stubbornly, the redhead set her chin and turned to meet his mischievous gaze with a challenge. It was an empty threat, she was sure, and she was _not_ conceding the point. "I'm not beautiful, and I never will be."

"That's it!"

Tris squawked in surprise when Briar picked her up by her waist and carried her towards the other end of the room.

"Briar! Put me down!" Her voice was shriller than she liked, but it wasn't from fear so much as surprise. And frustration. Logically, she knew he was taller than her and had noticed his muscles in a 'yes they are there, they have nothing to do with me' sort of way. But when had he gotten so bloody _strong_ -

Abruptly, he dumped her on the bed, turning to close the door to the balcony. Tris was up off the mattress in moments, but the plant mage was faster and quickly dumped her on the neatly tucked in comforter once more.

"Briar!" She kicked at him with one shod foot, and he caught it before it could connect with his side. One strong hand settled around her ankle in a steely grip, and he kept it at an angle so she could neither use it to kick him again or use it as purchase to escape.

"You have to the count of ten to make sure no sounds leave this room; unless, you want the rest of the house to hear you squeal," he told her in an aggravatingly calm voice as though he was exerting no more effort than he would in opening a door. She was certainly exerting more than that trying to free herself, and it was getting her bloody nowhere. Somehow, using her magic never even came into her thoughts.

"What?! Briar-!"

"Ten."

"You can't-"

"Nine."

"But I-"

"Eight."

"Infuriating-"

"Seven."

"Pig-headed-"

"Six."

"Let _go-_ "

"Five."

"I'm not-"

"Four."

"This is-"

"Three."

"You _wouldn't."_

"Two."

Tris closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and Briar felt a tightening of the air around him. He grinned.

Opening her eyes, she gave him a dark scowl and grumbled. "Ok, you win. Fine. You were just joking…right?"

Briar's grin grew.

"Nope."

-090-

Sandry was the one to organize the next day's outing, procuring the proper mounts from the Citadel and inviting the proper guests from among their circle of acquaintances. The Duke had been planning to come, but a small problem had come to light and so sent his heir in his stead. Gospard had no real desire to become the next Duke, but his singular lack of imagination made him useful at times. In this case, he believed the somewhat altered events his cousin had fed him and the rest of the court and promised to support the new couple to the best of his ability.

The rest of the guests were a mix of mage colleagues and gossiping hanger-ons who could be trusted to repeat whatever they 'overheard'. Niko had been enjoying this particular part of his job a bit too much, taking the time to visit several small gatherings he would have normally avoided to drop bits and pieces of what they wanted people to think they knew in choice ears.

Those who had then publicly announced their support were invited to the picnic, which they considered to be a great honor given whom much of the guest list was. Sandry and Niko looked so smug about it at their private meeting that morning that Briar had ignored them completely while Tris merely rolled her eyes.

Valden rode confidently on his roan gelding outside the city, enjoying the salt breeze and fresh air but still keeping an eye on the rest of the group, nonetheless. Darra, his wife, had managed to insinuate herself next to their daughter, but no matter how he maneuvered his mount he never seemed to get any closer to the pair. Others kept interposing themselves between him and the rest, and had it not been so random, he might have assumed it was planned.

His first companion had been Lord Gospard, a plain-faced gentleman in his mid-thirties with a decent mind behind sleepy brown eyes. He'd not only been able to carry on an involved discussion about current economics, he then answered Valden's questions about his son-in-law with surprising frankness. He was also the current heir of the Duke, and a well-respected Commodore in his navy.

"Briar is a good fellow," he'd replied without hesitation. "Even if he spends most of his time with plants. Father depends on his help with many things, and Briar has never failed him. He liked a night out like anyone else, but that was before Tris."

Valden's brows rose a bit at that. "I thought they were all raised together at the temple?"

"Oh, they were. But there was a few years where both left with their teachers to study and travel abroad," he explained lightly. "Sandry left the temple then to join us at the Citadel, after my father fell sick. I was at sea at the time and did not return until he was well on his way to recovery. "

"When did they begin their courtship?" Valden asked curiously, unable to recall if it had been mentioned before.

"I honestly don't know," his companion said blithely. "Other than Briar was less and less inclined to spend his nights out after they returned from Namorn. He has spent the last few functions I attended mainly in her presence, so it could have been then."

"It wasn't announced?" The merchant's voice held a hint of exasperation.

Again the lord shrugged, as though unconcerned with the details. "Tris is very quiet, for all that she has storms tied up in those braids..."

"Surely that's just an expression," Valden chuckled dryly, "I know she is a weather-witch but that seems taking it a bit far."

The look directed at him by Gospard was unamused. "My cousin thought so. He went and tugged one of the thin ones to prove it when no one was looking. Two hours later, he woke up with a blinding headache from the backlash. I was told he was lucky to get off with just that, if he'd touched one of the big ones he might not have lived."

Valden didn't have a reply. There didn't seem to be one he could make without looking more the dolt than he already did. And Valden hated looking like a dolt.

"She naturally makes some nervous," the Duke's heir went on lightly. "She certainly makes me nervous when she starts to mess with her braids, so I would assume things were kept quiet for her sake."

"I see."

The lord moved on, but Valden didn't have long to wait until Master Pomena, a merchant of decent prosperity rode up beside him. They had been formally introduced earlier, but Valden was still a bit taken aback when the older gentleman asked, "So, how does it feel to have a famous daughter and son-in-law?"

"Famous?" Valden replied with a slight smile. "They're well-known, yes, but I would _hardly_ call them _famous."_

The merchant bristled a bit at this and raised his chin in disapproval, saying haughtily, "Perhaps where you're from, no, but Emelan is proud of those four. We know it wasn't the Duke who saved us from those pirates a decade back."

The merchant from Ninver wanted to disbelieve what he was hearing as his companion continued with tales of the quartet. About the way they supposedly survived an earthquake by spinning their magic together and how, besides the pirates, they had also defeated the blue pox and a raging inferno together. And while all but one of those had already been mentioned to him, somehow he couldn't assimilate the fantastical tales he was being told with the calm recollection that had been presented the day before.

Something about the earthquake nagged at his thoughts, but he shoved it aside for the time being as the merchant went on to describe other 'wonders' he had heard the four were involved in. Some Valden almost discounted out of hand; they couldn't possibly own a magical glass dragon that they used to guard a secret magic weapon somewhere in the city. Others, he wasn't so certain; what were the limits really of their magic?

The Chandler head was quiet when his garrulous riding companion finally left, finding himself alone as he tried to digest what he'd been told. Yes, Niko had said they were talented mages and given their accreditation's at a young age, that must speak something towards their abilities, but he hadn't really believed they could be that incredible when compared to other great mages.

Valden looked up at a light touch on his shoulder, finding his wife suddenly beside him. "Are you alright?" she asked, guiding her mare more with her knees than her hands. He smiled, her remarkable horsemanship had always been one of the many things he'd loved about her.

"How did you find our daughter?" he asked, noticing the young mage was now off with her ever-doting husband.

"Dry, much like you. Her wit is sharp, as we already noted. She is also...distant with me. Polite. I suppose that is to be expected." Her smile took on a faint edge of pain, but it was gone a moment later as she straightened the drape of her split gown. "What have you learned in your time?"

"That what we thought was meant to overawe us yesterday may have only been the tip of the iceberg. Indeed, I feel there is much we have yet to discover about our daughter and son-in-law. And I am not sure I am pleased by that discovery." They both kept their faces carefully blank as he relayed all he had heard, though he could tell she was equally bothered by the news.

"A mystery," she murmured as she cast a thoughtful eye about the group. "Or pieces of one, perhaps beyond what we already expected."

Her keen mind was another thing he had always loved about her. Valden relaxed in his seat, watching as his wife guided her horse towards Sandry, one of the foster siblings and also the Duke's niece. She would gather information, align the stories, fill the gaps, and have a plan laid before dinner tonight.

It was so nice to have a wife as useful as she was beautiful.

-090-

Briar frowned as he rode alongside his wife, eyes watching those around them without being overly obvious. Something wasn't right, if the nagging itch between his shoulder blades was anything to go by, and he'd bet his tattoos it had something to do with Valden's very smug look.

"Briar?"

The ex-thief whipped his head back around. "Wh-? Oh, sorry, my mind..."

"I told you weather manipulation on the smaller levels would be boring," Tris sighed as she gave him an accusing look.

Briar blinked and tried not to frown. "What? No, something just caught my eye..."

She rolled her eyes in response and replied, "Because it was more interesting than-"

"Stop it, Tris," he cut in abruptly, giving her a flat look.

"Or what?" she replied in an equally short tone.

He lowered his voice and leaned closer. "We'll have a repeat of you-know-what when we get home tonight, that's what."

The look she gave him before turning away in a scowling flush was one he didn't recognize, but for some reason his stomach gave a nervous jump when she replied, "Do so at your own peril, thief." She still wasn't sure how, when he had forgotten so much else, that the precise knowledge of _all_ of her ticklish spots had managed to stay with him in their years apart. It had been an accident when he'd discovered them originally, poking her in the sides to get her attention when she had been absorbed in a book. It had taken him months to discover the rest, and he had been persistent as his favorite trick of tugging her curls had become dangerous for a time as her strength in lightning grew. She had never actually told him that the few left out of her braids at the base of her neck were kept safe, just in case. He had just known.

The night's previous torture had ended when she managed to, accidentally, kick him on the hip with enough force to send him tumbling off the edge of her bed. He hadn't been hurt, but something about the panicked look he'd had just before slipping over the edge and then the glare of annoyance when she'd peered over the edge at him had been enough to send her off in a fit of laughter that he had joined in before long. What to do about the contract itself hadn't been agreed upon, but he had promised it could be discussed again when her parents had left. One problem at a time, Briar had said, and Tris had agreed.

Briar wasn't given a chance to reply as Sandry pulled up beside them with a, "Oh, the happy couple isn't quarreling, are they?"

"Oh no," the plant mage replied, green eyes dancing mischievously even as he wondered _if_ he dared just to find out what she planned to do. "If we were, Coppercurls would be sparking by now."

"I don't spark over simple arguments, you know that very well," Tris retorted with a scowl. "Not unless I'm playing with lightning."

"You don't really mean 'play' with it, do you Mage Tris?" asked a middle-aged mage named Herrun who specialized in wardings against pest infestations. He had only recently arrived in Emelan the moon before. He had been riding just close enough to hear the remark, and butted into the conversation whether or not he was invited. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"Oh yes, very," Briar replied proudly. "But for Tris it's as tame as a kitten. It's quite pretty, really, when it's twined through her fingers like lace..."

The mage hastily excused himself, face an interesting shade of green.

"Oh dear," Sandry sighed. "That wasn't very nice, Briar."

"Neither was butting in unasked, so we're even," he replied sharply.

"Smile, guys, we're being watched," Daja said as she appeared on Tris' other side.

"Why, we're not perfect all the time," Briar grumbled.

Daja flashed a pretty smile, her teeth brilliantly white against her dark skin. "Speak for yourself."

There was a moment of dead silence before all four burst out laughing.

"Oh, Mila help us," Tris gasped as she wiped an eye under her glasses. "They must think we're crazy."

"Angry to happy in a snap is pretty normal for families," Daja wheezed.

Briar held his sides as he gasped for air. "Wonderful, we're a normal, happy family."

"Aren't you the one that keeps telling me we're anything _but_...?"

-090-

Across the group, Valden Chandler turned towards the four young adults who had burst out laughing again.

"Are they always so...festive?" he asked his companion, a stately grandmother dressed in a fine silk dress with a veil covering her steel grey hair.

The accountant for Emelan's premier bank shrugged, unwilling to admit she hadn't the foggiest. "They're mages," she said in her sagest voice. "And powerful ones at that, they do as they please."

The merchant looked at her, then back at the four, still laughing in the distance. "I see."

-090-

All four mages had declined invitations to a meal after the successful outing had ended, citing that they had work to do and needed at least a few days time to see to it. Valden agreed easily; he had time and understood the press of responsibilities in life. He had listened closely when the four discussed their duties amongst themselves. He had also noted a few interesting particulars (city service in exchange for taxes? How innovative..) and at the end announced that he looked forward to seeing them whenever they were available again.

Knowing she had the next two days free of her parents didn't make waking up two hours before dawn any easier for Tris. Somehow, leaving the warm body beside her was the hardest part of all.

Tris dressed, more by feel than sight, in her dark bathroom and tucked her braids into their snood before jamming wire-rimmed spectacles onto her nose. Turning to her still-sleeping husband as she passed back into the main room, she leaned over- and paused.

"You've been reading too many stories," she huffed, turning away abruptly and heading out the door. Downstairs she stopped only to drink her tea. A horse was saddled and waiting in the courtyard with two of the Duke's guards for escort, and she wasted no time in mounting up and heading out. They were more for show than anything else, and they knew it, but it made her trip up the winding streets to the Citadel that much faster as people moved out of the way for their small party.

One of the servingmen was waiting for her in the main courtyard, her guards breaking off to head towards the stables. Taking the reins of her horse, he politely informed her that the Duke and his niece awaited her in the high tower with breakfast.

Tris stilled the urge to roll her eyes (she told them they need not rise so early, they both worked too much and slept too little as it was) and made her way inside. The few others she passed along the way bowed politely, murmuring a greeting before continuing on. She replied in kind but would not have been able to recall a single face later on. She was focusing on the task ahead, on her careful preparations.

Sandry and Duke Verdis were waiting as promised, seated at a small table that practically groaned from the platters of food on it. Tris winced inwardly a bit (coffee cake, apple turnovers _and_ a summer cream pie?) but knew it was necessary. The stitch witch rose to greet her sister with a kiss before ushering her to the empty space. Seating herself, Tris began to eat, loading her plate much higher than she normally would as Sandry and the Duke resumed their own meal and continued to chat lightly about inconsequential things. Eating that much on purpose had taken practice, but she had learned. Every bite disappeared down her throat, and when she was done, she pushed back from the table and stood.

"You're ready?" Verdis asked politely.

"Yes, and I would like to start now, while the wind is with me," she replied with a faint smile.

"I understand." And he did, which was perhaps the only reason she agreed to do this for him at all. "Will the usual arrangements...?"

"Yes, please."

"Of course."

Sandry kissed her sister on the cheek again before stepping back, watching with her Uncle as Tris took up her spot on the small balcony of the highest tower the citadel offered, body braced against the railing and legs locked into place. The weather-witch took a deep breath, filling lungs to capacity, and when she blew out left her body with the wind, soaring high above Emelan as her magic-self. In this form, she could sail for hours on the wind, traveling in that time what it would take riders days to cover as she let the avenues of air in the highest reaches of the sky carry her to her first destination.

Distantly, she heard a chair scrape across the floor and the rustle of paper being shuffled. She hoped it was her usual scribe; the last one had misunderstood her instructions multiple times. She could pause in her flight, but it was difficult to fight the wind and each moment lost meant it would take her longer to finish her task. In each run, she 'flew' over the ground and sea two-day's travel from the Citadel in all directions. The day she would be traveling was known among all the Duke's people, and a system of flags had been arranged to convey important news immediately to the Duke through her flight.

She caught sight of flags above a medium-sized walled town to the east, noted the signals and deciphered the code.

"Sickness at Brookshire," she said, hearing the scratch of pen by her distant other self. "They have quarantined it, but fear another outbreak. Requesting aid immediately."

And so it began.

-090-

Niko woke early, as usual, but was not surprised to find his guests had beaten him to the breakfast table and were gone for the day. His servants informed him of all the merchant couple's doings in the house, but thus far, the pair had shown only cool politeness to those serving them and kept mostly to their rooms with the door shut. He had briefly considered laying spells on the walls that would allow him to hear whatever was going on inside but dismissed it as easily discovered and low-handed, besides.

Seating himself at the table, he accepted the note handed to him by the server and broke the plain wax seal. In it was a brief apology from the Chandlers, saying they were most sorry for leaving before he was awake but had decided to tour the city on their own that day and not to expect them until after dinner.

The mage was not displeased to find he had a day to himself but also felt a moment of unease. There was much to see in Emelan, but Niko had a hard time believing that was all they would be about. Recalling his unexpected visit the evening before only made it worse.

"I suppose I should thank you, Niklaren Goldeye."

Those had been the words with which Valden Chandler announced his presence in the door to Niko's study. The mage sat at his desk, answering an invitation to a summit discussing whether certain magics should be banned in war. Niko agreed with the theory but knew it would be almost impossible to enforce without mages taking over every governing body currently in existence. And he didn't believe that would make things any better. "Oh?" he had answered, putting his pen aside and motioning to a chair.

Valden accepted the invitation and settled himself, before continuing. "When my wife and I set out on this journey, we did not expect to find a healthy young woman on the cusp of maturity. At best, we hoped to find her sane and, more or less, in control of her physical functions. Possession is so hard on the host."

"She was never possessed," Niko replied quietly. They had covered this ground before, but he felt the need to reiterate the point. "Or inhuman. Or switched with a changeling. Or part elemental."

The merchant nodded his agreement and merely said, "Would that we had known that 15 years ago."

"You abandoned her." It was the first time Niko had phrased it that way, but it was the truth.

"Yes, I did." The pair matched level gazes, and while neither looked away, Valden was the first to blink as he spoke. "When Tris was three, she would laugh and play in the rain and pout when the sun came out. When she was four, her brother nearly died from being thrown by a strong wind when he teased her while out on a balcony, and as the year went on, such occurrences grew stronger and more frequent. On one occasion, I scolded her for getting her dress wet on a trip to the ocean, and a sinkhole formed under my feet and buried me to my knees. I was lucky not to break a leg. At the time, we took it for a coincidence, but that was not the only such occurrence. Other children began to avoid her, and their parents began to whisper. Time after time unnatural things would happen around her, and the rumors came. That she was cursed, possessed, demon-touched, demented, a spirit, a monster...we tried everything. Every doctor, mage, healer and priest we could afford was brought to her, and none could help us."

"We tried to explain it to our family, but the unknown breeds fear and, in time, hate. We tried moving her to live with other family members, distant branches, hoping that perhaps being away would help solve whatever it was that was wrong, but the result was always the same. They would see the proof for themselves, come to fear her, and ultimately, we would be given the choice of moving her somewhere else, or they would end the problem themselves."

"In the end, the only safe place for her was the temple. We were under no illusions as to how she would be treated if possessed, but at least, there she would be protected from those who wished to take her life. And because we sent her there, she found you."

"That is why I thank you, Niklaren Goldeye. We now know that, while our decision broke our hearts, it was the best one we could have possibly made, for both our daughter and us."

The great mage sat back, frowning as he tried very hard not to feel a pang of sympathy for these people he so very much wanted to despise. Denying that the merchant's words were probably true was foolish; he knew from his own innate senses what he was likely to discover if he cast the spell. On the other hand, he was not ready to give them an ounce of leeway. Tris' pain was too real to him to do that, so he settled with, "I sense that is not all you wish to say."

"No, it is not," Valden agreed, watching him carefully. "Knowing our daughter is healthy, sane and well-cared for is not enough to satisfy us. We came fully prepared to take our daughter home with us should we decide it is best for her. The parameters of what we are looking for has changed, seeing as she is a successful mage and married. But she is a Chandler, and we intend to be certain this is a match made for the betterment of both."

Niko shrugged noncommittally. "That is your right, of course," he said, unsure of what else to say. Tris' birthday wasn't for almost another two moons, and until then, they could very easily decide to be a thorn in their hosts' side.

His guest nodded as though he expected nothing more. "Good. Thank you for your time, Master Goldeye. My wife and I have decided to tour Emelan for the next few days, so you need not concern yourself with us."

"My home is at your disposal." The reply was automatic, and while Niko did mean it, it still piqued a little to be polite to people he wished to be hostile towards.

"Thank you, your generosity is most gracious."

Niko mulled over the conversation again as he sipped his tea, picking at a bowl of hot oats with fruit and syrup in front of him. He would not be mentioning it to Briar or Tris, he decided as he took a careful bite from the steaming bowl. They had enough to handle for now, and it would only worry them further.

-090-

 _Briar woke first, which was becoming his new routine, but kept still as he listened to Tris breathe next to him in her -their- bed. That was also becoming routine. He would wait, and when she started to stir, feign dozing until she shook him or left the bed. And in the time she slept, he watched._

 _She was so relaxed in her sleep. So completely unguarded. He hadn't realized how many walls she had built around herself, even with their circle reconnected, until he had seen this. Nor did he understand why she thought those walls were still necessary. They were here for her; he was here for her. There was nothing they couldn't share, nothing they couldn't do when together._

 _So why did she still feel the need to hide?_

"Boy!"

Briar sharply came back to the present, taking the basket Rosethorn was trying to hand him and lugging it inside beside Evvy with her crate of jars.

"You're out of it," his former student teased as they made their way down to the cellar.

"Evvy, go get the other crate," Rosethorn said as she reached the bottom of the stairs. "Briar will help me put everything away." The girl obeyed quickly, scampering back up the stairs as the dedicate turned to the young mage. "Briar…"

"You use that tone when I'm in trouble," her former student said wryly as he began to unpack jars and clay pots from the straw padding. "What did I do?"

"How is Tris?" the dedicate replied, catching the young man off guard. He hesitated, then shrugged.

"She's good," he said as he began to stack sealed jars on the shelves. "We're holding up alright."

"Niko said he fears her parents are going to try and lay a trap of some kind." The comment was given off-handedly, but Briar knew from the way her brow was slightly lowered that Rosethorn was worried.

"No one traps this thief," he chuckled, trying to be reassuring without being obvious. "Not without more skill than those two have. And they aren't clever enough by half to catch Tris."

"Is she sleeping alright?" Rosethorn persisted as she watched him from the corner of her eye. "You're not keeping each other up, are you?"

"No, she sleeps fine. We both do." And he was surprised to find he meant it. His sleep improved with seeing the soul-healer, and hers as she slowly became used to the side-effects of her wind scrying. But he had to admit he rarely had such good rest as lately without doing a major working of some kind to tire himself out. And he thought it might be the same for Tris as well.

"Then why are you tired?"

"I'm just getting up earlier than usual." Which was true, but he wasn't tired so much as just unable to keep his attention on the present. And he didn't think trying to explain the difference would help his case any.

"What for?"

 _To watch her in the only moments when her face is completely unguarded._ "So we're not trying to get ready in the bathing chamber at the same time," he fudged slightly. It was partially true; it did make things easier when they weren't trying to get ready at the same time. But it usually wasn't him who was getting up out of their bed first.

"Dedicate Rosethorn?" The plant mages looked up to see one of the volunteers standing on the stairs. "They're waiting for you in the examination room, ma'am."

"Come on, Briar, let's go get this done."

"Yes, ma'am." Briar, technically, didn't have to volunteer at Hulda's house. He was not a dedicate of the temple, and he certainly didn't give away his services for free all the time. But it was nice, feeling like he was doing some good, and it was a chance to spend part of the day with Rosethorn. He didn't want to live at Discipline; he'd outgrown the small cottage and his life there. But he sometimes missed his foster-mother, and it was a good excuse to be in her presence without acting soppy.

The examination room was small, but clean, everything scrubbed and washed to keep infections to an absolute minimum. Hot water and soap were constantly provided to wash hands and wounds with, and fresh bandages, salves and all manner of dressings were off to the side. An assistant attached himself to each of them, one showing him to the station he would be working at with the first patient already waiting.

"You're Briar Moss, right?" the man assigned to Briar asked as they made their way to a table at the far end, a small boy already sitting on it with bandages over the palms of his hands.

"Yep," the mage replied as he bent to wash his hands in the steaming bowl provided for just that. "Why?"

"Oh, I just met the other three, and not you, so I thought I'd introduce myself. I'm Daimen." He was only a little older than Briar with brown hair and eyes and a cheeky grin.

"Well met, Daimen. You know the girls?" Briar asked as he began to unwrap the child's hands. Both palms were scored with thin slices that had become infected, the wounds an angry red and oozing puss. "How?"

"Oh, the Duke's niece is in about once a moon dropping off an extra basket of this or that

she made for us," his companion replied as he handed Briar the implements as he asked for them. The pussy patches were lanced and cleaned out, the lad giving no more than a muffled yelp. Briar gave him an approving nod, and the young child's back straightened even more. "The smith mage was here a few moons ago, fixing some things and putting rust repellent on everything. The red head hasn't been in for nearly a year now, but no one really minds. We were quite happy to see the back of her last time."

"And why's that?" Briar asked a bit more sharply than he intended to. The boy froze, as only a child who knows an adult's wrath can be indiscriminate would. The green mage forced himself to relax, quickly and neatly wrapping the cleaned cuts in fresh bandages. "Keep those on for three days; don't get them wet. Off with you." The boy bolted with a nod of thanks.

"She was quiet, came to renew the cold spells and a few other things. But even past that, her magic…" The man's lips were pressed thin, his body growing taunt. "What you and Dedicate Rosethorn do is normal, sir. Everyone knows green mages. But what that woman is cursed with…"

"You won't finish that," Briar finally growled, his eyes narrow and cold. "Not about my _wife_."

-090-

"What happened after that?"

Damien looked at the stranger as though the gentleman had gone mad. "What happened? What do you think happened? I got out of there is what happened, and glad I did, if what my boss said is true."

"And what did he say?" The tone was light and curious, the gentleman studying his companion seriously.

"That when the plant mage left Hulda's House he refused all apologies from my boss and walked away down the street without the rest of his companions. He was cold as ice, and everyone who saw his face was very quick to get out of his way. The young girl looked worried, but the Dedicate just looked annoyed." Daimen ran a hand through his hair as he shivered, remembering the those eyes once more. He would not be going to back, if he knew the mage would be there. Not for all the gold in Emelan!

The gentleman seemed satisfied and stood up, pulling a small purse from his well-tailored coat. "Very well. As you have done as I asked-"

"And almost got my jewels handed to me in the process!" Daimen retorted, debating demanding more money. Something about the steely gaze that suddenly met his own made him reconsider. After all, he, technically, suffered nothing more than a little embarrassment and had been warned the young man would probably not like what he had to say. His job was just to say it and report whatever the reaction was. "You didn't tell me she was his wife, I thought they were siblings," he groused anyways with a petulant pout.

"Here is the money, as promised." The coin pouch was set on the table, just out of comfortable reach. Daimen stretched for it greedily and was surprised when his wrist was suddenly trapped against the table. "And you _will_ be keeping your promises, won't you Daimen?" It occurred to Daimen just then that, while this man knew a fair bit about him, he knew nothing in return. Not even his name. They had met via a friend of a friend, and not one he could ask for answers either.

The volunteer paused, then gulped slowly and mumbled, "Yeah, I will." His wrist was released and he snatched the purse to his chest. "And thanks for nothing, pal."

"You didn't have to take the job, my friend." The stranger rose to his feet, straightening his plain but well-made clothes as he prepared to leave. A lovely woman with silver streaked black curls was waiting for him near the front, rising to her feet at his approach. "I certainly didn't force you to."

Daimen decided whatever thoughts of revenge he had were best put away as he hid the clinking sack deep in his tunic. And maybe it would be a good idea to leave the city for a couple of days. He had a sister in the country he kept meaning to visit; she would probably forgive him showing up unannounced and staying for a week or three.

-090-

The Chandlers spent the morning locating and speaking to certain people about certain work they needed done. With Valden's business contacts to help, the work went quickly, and it was shortly after noon when they found themselves in the marketplace wandering idly from stall to stall.

It was Darra who spotted the metal mage, speaking with an older gentleman in a fine tunic and trousers that who was likely a customer. Her husband followed her over, but they politely hung back until money was exchanged for a paper-wrapped package, and the gentleman left with the air of one well pleased.

"Hello Master Chandler, Mistress Chandler," Daja said carefully, keeping her face politely blank when she spotted them. "Is there something I can help you with today?"

"No, we are only stopping to admire your wares as we wander through the market," Valden replied as he eyed one of the displays with appreciation. "Is everything here your work?"

"The metal work is," Daja replied as she stepped back to let them better see what was hung up behind her. "Most of my work is custom pieces, but I occasionally find time to tinker on ideas of my own."

"Are those healing salves?" Darra asked as she pointed to a shelf to one side.

The trader smiled, pride coming into her voice as she answered. "Yes, they're Briar's work. They are very effective and very popular. The tea blends and smelling salts are also his."

"And these?" Valden touched one of the glass flames among other pendants, this one green with hints of purple shining through.

"Tris' work, mostly," Daja said; they kept the specifics of Chime's flames to themselves and a select group of others. "A few of them we worked together on."

Darra motioned to another set of glass pendants, these in the shape of a shield of runes inscribed in black ink on the surface. "What does this one do?"

"It is a personal rain-shield. It will keep you perfectly dry in all but the worst weather. The charm does not last forever, of course, but since the renewal fee is less than buying one a new charm, it is a popular item as well." Daja couldn't help the note of pride in her voice as she described the item. It was one of Tris' better ideas thus far, and if she could just manage to make it stronger, she would probably be set for life.

"Really? How interesting. And that one?" This time Valden's finger touched a perfect, tiny spiral of glass with red and blue streaks throughout.

Daja managed to keep a straight face as she answered, but it was a struggle. "Just fancy glass work, nothing more. A...by product of another project."

"It's beautifully done," the merchant said as he held it to the light carefully in two fingers. "Look at how tiny and delicate the swirls are Darra."

What Daja had said wasn't entirely untrue. Or perhaps it would have been better to say that she merely left a few key facts out. Like the fact that the swirl came from Chime, not Tris. And it was one of the small glass dragon's droppings. Both she and Briar were of a similar mind, that if some silly creature thought them pretty and wanted to wear it on their neck or wrist or ears or wherever then let them. Tris' argument was fair, that if they knew it had come from a dragon's rear end (even a glass one, at that) it would probably lose it's appeal.

It had actually been Sandry who had convinced her to put them up for sale, pointing out that silk came from worm bottoms, and there was a special type of linen made by using the fur from alpaca privates. And that didn't even go into all the strange things people would eat, so long as one called it a 'delicacy'. "If people find those items worthy of their coin regardless, then I don't see how this is any different," she had said, using logic to score a total victory. And so the perfect swirls were given copper and silver settings by Daja and put on sale. They were particularly popular with parents; for unlike most glass beads, these were almost impossible to break.

For a moment, it sounded like Darra was considering purchasing the item; the way she made so much over it, and Daja didn't know if she could have kept a straight face through that. However, the basket of stones right next to the holder caught the older woman's attention, and she picked one up curiously. At her touch, the stone flared to life with a soft glow.

"Oh! What is this?" the merchant wife asked as she turned the object over in her fingers with wonder.

Daja did smile this time. Everyone reacted that way the first time. "Light stones, made by a novice stone mage at the temple. Evvy, whom you heard us speak of before."

Valden's brows lowered suspiciously. "You are allowed to sell student work? Is that safe?"

"Yes, and everything is thoroughly checked for problems before it is sold," Daja explained patiently. "We do not charge as much as we would for work done by a full mage, but it is still good work. Evvy knows what she's doing. If you wish to extinguish the light, close your fist over it." In truth, they only sold them because Evvy had made so many more than the cart Rosethorn and Lark sold from on occasion could manage.

Darra did as told and was pleased with how quickly it responded. A few more times, she repeated the process before realizing she likely looked like a child with a new toy. Daja politely pretended not to notice as it was put back carefully. Valden asked about a few more items, specifically some of her metal work, and the smith-mage answered to the best of her ability. She did not notice the way Darra began to count to herself, looking at everything for sale on display. The frown that tugged at the corner of her mouth was kept in check, though, until they had moved along due to another customer's arrival.

"Dearest?" The tall woman murmured as she placed an arm on his.

"Hm?"

"Out of the four foster-siblings, which would you say is the most powerful?" Her tone was testing, and he gave the question serious thought before answering.

"Our daughter, I think. Or at least it seems they want us to believe that."

His wife's shadow of a frown deepened. "Then why, dear husband, do I feel she might be the poorest of the four?"

Valden stopped in the middle of the street, looking back at the stall that was almost out of sight now. Puzzlement lined his forehead and he turned to his wife. "How so?"

"I noted the prices of the items for sale," she explained as she steered him out of the flow of the street traffic. "Even if she sold three times that of her siblings, she would not profit as much as they would. And given what I saw of the inventory, I do not believe she sells even half that. Unless she has additional income we are not aware of, she must be counting copper bits to cover her living costs with a child to support as well."

"Unless Briar is supporting her," Valden pointed out slowly, "It would be proper for him to do so as her husband. It may even be a reason why they got married in the first place."

Darra nodded, but her face drew down with displeasure. "Something else for us to discover, then. I do not like the thought of our daughter living on the sufferance of others."

Valden nodded his agreement and sighed, "Nor do I."

-090-

Briar angrily paced the small confines of Tris' bedroom, mouth curled in a nasty glower as he searched for something to distract himself with. Daja had tried to speak with him at dinner but, after having her nose snipped off twice, decided to seek company elsewhere. Briar regretted it now; she would have, at least, listened while he shouted what was wrong but couldn't bring himself to apologize just yet.

Tris still hadn't returned home, which bothered him, but Daja had reminded him, before leaving him to keep his own company, that this particular kind of scrying took a long time. She would return, probably late tonight, but until then, he would just have to settle down and wait.

But he didn't _want_ to wait; he didn't want to be by himself. Or, remembering how he'd driven Daja away, he didn't want to be away from Tris. Like if she were there, it would somehow make it...not right because hearing that about her would never be alright but less bad.

The plant mage looked up, feeling a familiar presence reach towards him. It was his favorite shakan, radiating solidarity and strength despite its frail appearance.

 _Stay strong_ it seemed to say. _Root yourself deep, and ride out the storm. Stay strong._

Briar sighed as he dragged the pot into his lap. One hand wrapped around the gnarled trunk, as always he was surprised at the great strength found there despite its diminutive size. "This shouldn't bother me so much. He was just a stupid bleater..."

 _He insulted our she-sky. Our she-wind and she-rain. It_ should _bother us._

"Do you get upset?"

 _There are bad times. The dry times, when leaves die and roots crack for want. The floods when all is swept away. The strong winds that tear the self from the earth. The great storms that bring the sky-fire or the ice._

"What do you do, in those bad times?"

 _Root deep, weather the storm. Stay strong._

Briar took a deep, steadying breath and started to meditate. It was hard at first; his mind wanted to dart from topic to topic, and his heart burned with a dark fury. Wrapping the idiot in a tangle of stickers would be so much more satisfying. But it would solve nothing and, indeed, probably make things worse.

 _Root deep, weather the storm. Stay strong. Root deep, weather the storm. Stay strong. Root deep, weather the storm._

 _Stay strong._

-090-

Author's Notes:

This is an Edit around 5pm on Friday. This Chapter was originally loaded around 8 am on Friday, but I have reason to believe something went wrong because it's not getting any views and I never received the update that it went through. So I'm adding this edit into the chapter, and reloading it to replace the original. If you were waiting for the chapter and were wondering where it went, this is what happened. Thanks!

25 pages, guys! They're all minimum that long from here on out, guys. That's a lot of pages!

The Bargain for the next chapter: 20 reviews. We got more this time, but I'm not stupid. I can see the visitor counts, guys! There's more than enough of you if you would just exert yourselves a little to hit that 20 review mark and get that next chapter uploaded immediately. Or you can wait until Friday and be lazy. It's up to you.

A few other things:

Academic Lightning, by An Impatient Pierce Fan, is written by a good friend of mine and you should really get over to it and read it if you haven't. I've had the privilege of reading some of the upcoming material on the next chapter or two, and it's pretty exciting stuff! If you're a fan of Tris, you definitely won't want to miss it.

There is the possibility of some traveling coming up in the near future. Traveling which I may have very short notice on. If I am able to take my laptop, I will continue updates as normal. If I am not (as in, I disappear without warning) I will post whatever is missed as soon as I return. I should only be absent for 3 or 4 days, so hopefully your updates will be able to continue uninterrupted!

A final note: Summertime is just around the corner guys, and we are working on settling our schedule for how things will run with our household during these warm, sunny months. There is a chance I will shift the update day to a day other than Friday, simply for the sake of my sanity. It will be whichever day I have least going on, which means it will NOT be Saturday or Sunday. If this happens, I will keep that same day from the end of May until mid September for the weekly update. I was hoping I could stick to Fridays, but it looks like a few things have come up that might throw a wrench into that plan. We shall see.

Thanks as always, and don't forget to review!

~CB~


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Tris gave a short gasp as her awareness fluttered back into her body, slowly stretching as joints unlocked and muscles tried to move again after being frozen in place for so many hours. She shuddered involuntarily, trying not to grimace as the pins and needles came with a vengeance.

"Careful…"

The weather mage almost fell as she whirled around on legs that weren't steady yet, her companion catching her with a strength that seemed impossible for her slim build.

"Thank you," she said as Yazmin helped her to an open chair by the table, wincing as her limbs continued to torture her with a vengeance. Slowly, she began to massage her legs, helping speed the return of blood flow, though it almost brought tears to her eyes to do so.

"You're quite welcome." The dancer's eyes seemed to shine with sympathy, but she still smiled warmly. "After all, it would not be good if you fell on your face after all the hard work you've been doing."

Tris cracked a rueful smile. "It would not be the first time, Ms. Yazmin." Or the second or third, but she kept that to herself. She liked the graceful dancer and was glad the Duke had found someone he enjoyed being around so much. But it was hard to be very close to someone who made you so easily jealous. She would never walk with that swaying grace or draw men's eyes the way Yazmin did with her lithe form, and it was difficult sometimes not to be more than a little bit bitter about that. The only thing that kept Tris from actually disliking her was that she was as sweet-natured as she was beautiful.

"Please, just Yazmin. After this much time, I wish us to be good friends." The genuine truth of that statement was hard to resist, and Tris felt her smile growing. "Why do you stand as you scry, when it causes you such difficulties afterwards?"

"The more of my body that's in the open wind the easier it is to maintain contact with it, as I must speak to whomever is taking notes," Tris replied as she moved to her arms, twisting to include her neck and shoulders. Much of what she had learned had come from Yazmin, not long after her first attempt at this over a year ago. The dancer had been very helpful at the time, another thing that made disliking her so hard. "If I sit on the floor, I am blocked by the wall, but if I sit on the wall, I am afraid someday I might pitch headlong over it as I tried to get up afterwards. This way, half my body is secured by the wall, and the other half open to the wind's embrace."

Yazmin frowned in thought as she watched. "But your body has the same reaction when you return to it."

Her back came next, and as always, the more she stretched the better she felt. "Yes. There isn't a mage yet who has figured out how to maintain the equilibrium in their body while gone from it for hours at a time."

Yazmin drummed her pretty lips with one painted fingernail, deep in thought. "Could one of the others help you, perhaps?" she asked curiously. "You are…connected, are you not?"

"Perhaps, but with as long as this takes…you know how busy Sandry gets with Duke Verdis, and Briar and Daja are nearly as bad. Besides, they have their own work for the Citadel to do as well." The last sentence was nearly swallowed by a yawn that seemed to appear out of nowhere, stretching her jaw nearly to its limit. "Excuse me," Tris mumbled in embarrassment when she finally regained control of her mouth.

Her companion only laughed and replied, "And now I am keeping you from your rest. Verdis and Sandry are in a late dinner meeting with an ambassador; that's why am I here. When you are ready to leave, your horse will be waiting for you, and I am to walk with you to make sure you reach her safely. I was also instructed to offer you a room here, to sleep for awhile, but was told you would likely refuse it as you always do."

"They are right." Tris' smile turned rueful at the thought. "When I sleep after this, it will need to be for several hours, and my rest is always best in my own home. Thank you, though, for the offer." That was partially because of the net she had finally managed to construct over her window and door to the balcony after returning from Namorn. The wind was still free to move in and out, but the images and sounds remained trapped on the other side. She could set up one here, at the Citadel, but it was tedious, exacting work and, with how she felt, it would likely be out of her reach.

"That I understand quite well." The dancer's eyes took on an amused cask as she added, "I think we had better go, though, or you may be sleeping in that chair instead."

Tris nodded in agreement, hiding yet another yawn as she accepted the offered hand to help her up and began the long walk to the gates below. Yazmin linked arms with her and chattered aimlessly about things that required little of Tris in return, except the occasional nod or grunt, much to the weather-mage's appreciation. Usually, Tris would have shied away from such close contact with someone who was not a close friend, but her legs felt leaden, and Yazmin offered more support than her slim frame would suggest. When they reached the bottom, Tris' horse was waiting, as promised, and a groom came to give her a leg up onto the tall beast. The animal didn't actually belong to her; she had refused the gift as too expensive years ago. But the Duke kept the fine creature in his stables, along with one for Daja and Briar, and they were always available whenever they needed of them.

"Thank you for your help, again," Tris said as Yazmin came to stand beside her mount. "I am sorry I was such poor company in return."

"You are tired and rightly so. Go get your rest, Tris; you can make it up to me another time."

The redhead nodded, then waved to the guards who opened the Citadel gate wide enough for her to pass through unhindered. Two more fell in with one to each side, escorting her silently through the cobbled streets. The city below was dark and quiet, dawn just on the horizon in a faintly pinkish line. Sighing, she drew in a deep breath of salty wind and felt a little more awake as she began to the descend among the buildings to her home.

-090-

Briar sat drowsing in his chair when Tris stumbled in, rubbing her eyes under her spectacles with one hand and reaching for the buttons of her dress with the other. There was no lamp lit, as Briar had found meditating easier in the dark, and the weather-witch didn't bother with one as she went directly to her side of the bed and began to undress. The plant mage didn't immediately register what was happening until Tris, who had already placed her spectacles on the bedside table, was lifting her dress over her head and tossing it carelessly on the chair nearby.

At that point, half his brain was absorbed in the rather unexpected expanse of _skin_ that suddenly appeared while the other dealt entirely with self preservation. Tris had her glasses off, which meant she couldn't see him. If she heard him, there was a good chance she would zap first and ask questions later. He wasn't one hundred percent certain it would actually hurt him, being 'bonded' gave them some immunity at times from the other's magic, but he had also seen what lightning did to trees and considered it better to not test that possibility. Ever.

The exhausted Tris remained unaware of her now not-breathing voyeur and shed her outer petticoat, a lightly-boned corset and was soon down to a long, thin shift with no sleeves that left very little to the imagination as to what was underneath. Again, carelessly dropping everything to the side, Tris crawled under her covers and was promptly dead asleep.

Briar didn't try and move for a long time. Partly because his mind was in such turmoil that he feared dropping the shakkan that still sat patiently in his lap, partly because his knees were still weak enough that he might fall, and finally because he was trying to decide whether a cold bath in ice or playing with her lightning braid would help. At all.

It wasn't that he hadn't seen women naked before. One could find many places where a woman would bare herself for a small fee, and often times, if you asked nice enough, you didn't have to pay anything at all. Blondes, brunettes, scarily thin to grotesquely fat, and with every shade of skin possible one could find any sort of flesh available for the taking, if one looked in the right places. So why was his throat so dry it felt like he was swallowing sand?

He hadn't even seen that much. The shift covered her from breasts to knees; it had been mostly dark in the room anyways, and then, she'd been under the covers so fast. Nonetheless, his throat tightened, as did his pants, as his mind forcefully replayed the faint outline of what lay underneath, just out of sight and so almost within reach that he felt his hands tightening on the shakkan's pot.

Ice, he decided, as he came to himself enough to put the plant back on its shelf and slipped out of the room. Lots and lots of ice.

-090-

The temple was easy to gain entrance to, for it was open to any who wished to visit. The couple registered at the gate, receiving tokens that allowed them access to the main grounds and gardens, the main library, the kitchens and the outer temple. Further areas could be seen by special invitation, or at times by hiring a guide, usually an older initiate about to take his or her vows. Valden politely refused the guide, they knew what they wanted to see, and set off down the meandering paths.

Valden let his wife lead the way first, amazed once again at the almost innocent way she engaged a gardener in a conversation about the shrubbery and was soon seamlessly pulling anything the man knew about resident plant mages and their associates in the temple grounds. Valden had to admit he was impressed with how quickly the names of his new son-in-law and his teacher came up, and it was not the only time. Similar conversations were repeated with four others tending the grounds and the answers were the same. The best plant mages in the area were Dedicate Rosethorn, some dedicate named Crane, and Briar Moss.

Valden was the one to ask the carter which way Discipline Cottage lay. It had been mentioned often enough as the place the four mages had been raised when talking with Master Goldeye and in the original meeting with Dedicate Rosethorn for the name to stick. The merchant had then gone on to ask about the horse leading the cart, an unusual breed he hadn't seen before with a massive chest and long hair on its fetlocks.

Darra gladly left her husband to his horse discussion, wandering, instead, in the direction the carter had pointed. The cottage soon came into view, and it was the only one like it anywhere in sight. A low hedge was grown up around it as a sort of living fence, but there was a gate at the front, and she entered fearlessly.

The front door was closed, but voices could be heard from the inside. Darra knocked, then stepped back and waited. A cat meowed, and a woman called to someone else inside.

The door was opened by a girl, dusky-skinned with a mass of glossy black curls tumbling down her back. Her face shown with an innocent beauty that the merchant's wife hadn't been prepared for as her breath caught in her throat. "May I help you?" she asked in a voice as lovely as her face.

"Y-yes," Darra replied, quickly recovering from her surprise. "I'm here to see Dedicate Rosethorn, if she is available."

"May I ask who is calling?" the girl replied. This time Darra caught a hint of an accent, a slight tendency to put the emphasis on the wrong part of the word. She wasn't surprised, as captivating as the child was she was clearly not from anywhere nearby.

"Chandler. Darra Chandler," she said automatically, unable to help the smile that crept onto her face.

Unusually, the gesture was not returned. Instead, her eyes narrowed, and she took a deep breath as she studied Darra's face. "Chandler...are you...?"

"Glaki, go back to your studies love." The dedicate in dark green who appeared behind her was tall with curly black hair cut short and skin a deep golden brown. "I will take it from here."

"But Lark, is she- ?" The protest was abruptly cut short by the sound of something being firmly set on the table.

"Glakisa Irakory, that is not a request," said a second voice, this one speaking slowly and carefully as though every word had been formed with care. "Come here."

As Lark opened the door for Darra to enter, the merchant saw the girl approach a familiar Dedicate who murmured something too low to be heard. The girl, Glakisa, responded in kind, and the dedicate nodded. The girl turned to the stairs and was out of sight very quickly.

"What're you being all nice for?" This came from a second girl, this one skinny and surrounded by stones of all shapes and sizes. There was even one behind her that seemed to have a face that for a moment Darra would have sworn moved. Then, it was simply stone again, and she shook herself at her ridiculous fancy.

"You, upstairs too," the second dedicate replied, ignoring the question completely. "And take Luvo with you. We'll call when Master Mimbes comes."

The girl looked on the point of arguing when the dedicate raised her eyebrows ever so slightly. "Ok, ok," was all she said as she rose to obey quickly. The stone with the face was picked up and taken along as she scampered up the stairs a trot.

"You will have to forgive our charges; they are quite restless and do not enjoy being confined, ever," the dedicate she didn't know said with an apologetic smile. "I am Lark, the other foster mother here in Discipline Cottage. You are Darra Chandler, Tris' mother. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Thank you," said Darra with more than a hint of surprise. "You were Lady Sandrilene's teacher, right? A...stitch-witch?"

The smile on Lark's face bloomed with warmth. "Yes and yes. I see you've been doing your research well."

"The girl, Glakisa, is that Tris' fosterling?" the visitor could not help but asking as she was ushered to the table where the second dedicate sat. It was a plain, sturdy affair but clean and in good repair. "They didn't say how beautiful she was."

"Glaki was once Tris' student and ward, yes," Lark confirmed as she fetched two cups from a shelf and began to heat a kettle of water. "They are very close, and she visits her often still."

Darra perked up with interest, her eyes straying to the stairwell once more. "Perhaps, I should speak with her then. Being Tris' student and ward, had things been different, she would have been like an adopted grandchild."

"Had things been different," Rosethorn interjected softly. "It is unlikely Tris and Glaki would have ever met."

"That...that is true." Darra sat slowly, feeling a rebuke in the words somehow.

"I don't think that's a good idea, not today anyways." The Dedicate was swift and sure as she added a handful of leaves to the pot, putting the lid back on and setting it aside to steep. "She actually doesn't know who you are or why you are here."

"Why not?"

"She has lost much already," Lark explained simply. "A mother, a foster-mother. A home. A city. There is a chance you may decide to take her Tris as well, and we didn't want to worry her with that." The note of disapproval was faint, but Darra heard it even so. She almost bristled, then recalled herself. These were the women who had done what she had not: raised Tris and helped her when she needed it the most. They had the right, even if it made her blood boil at the thought. They still had the right.

With that, the teapot was checked and declared ready as she set it, the two cups and a pot of honey on the table between the two women. Rosethorn silently took the pot and began to pour.

"I will leave you with Rosethorn now as you must have much to discuss," Lark said with a smile and a nod. Darra's eyes turned to the shorter woman who met her gaze blandly. "I will be in my workroom, if you need anything."

"Oh, yes. Thank you."

"Do you prefer honey in your tea?" Again, the words were slowly spoken and still somewhat slurred along the edges. The Dedicate's face remained mostly blank and her hands a trifle unsteady as they worked. The merchant wife had not noticed that the first time, at Niko's house. Honored Moonstream had done much of the talking, and there had been so much to take in at the time.

"No, thank you," Darra replied as she accepted the offered cup and sipped. The blend was more refined than she was expecting from a humble dedicate's home. It must have shown, for her companion's mouth widened into a small, proud smile.

"Why are you here, Mistress Chandler?" she asked as she poured for herself, adding a spoonful of honey and stirring it carefully.

"To learn more about my new son-in-law, Briar." The answer was prompt and sure. "He was your student and fosterling. We have met with him twice now, and I have some questions about some of the things I have seen and heard."

"Yes." Rosethorn was equally prompt and sure, her eyes steady as she watched her visitor carefully. "What is it you wish to know?"

Darra had considered many places to start, but had decided the beginning was usually the best. "How did that come to be? Did you...choose him?"

"Niko found him and saw his magic," the dedicate replied, the words flowing more easily as though they had been spoken many times before. "He had been caught for a third time stealing on the streets of Hajra and was soon to be sentenced to a short life of hard labor. Because of mage laws I won't bore you with, Niko had his sentence commuted and brought him here. He was originally placed in the dormitories with the rest of the novice boys, but that did not last long. They knew of his...origins, and he was falsely accused of theft. It led to some unfortunate events." Her smile became a trifle dry as her eyes seemed to see something from long ago. "He was placed in Discipline Cottage, where they hoped we would civilize him before turning him back over to the dormitories. I was getting ready to report that was impossible and he should be apprenticed out on of the Temple farms when his magic flared. My plants, in my garden, they reached for him just as they did for me, and that's when I knew. He became my student, my first in nearly a decade, and someday he will surpass me in all things plant and magic related."

"But you are a Great Mage. He isn't," Darra pointed out carefully, still unsure as to what the term meant exactly to the mages.

"Yet," Rosethorn agreed with a soft snort. "Someday, if he lives long enough, he will be."

The merchant's wife frowned. "Is that a concern?"

Rosethorn shrugged offhandedly. "No more than for anyone else, Mistress Chandler. He is less likely to die from disease or hunger or cold than your average citizen, but there are dangers that mage's face others do not. Workings go wrong, magic awry. He is careful, and very clever, but no one is perfect. And then there are the things none can foresee. Accidents. Plagues. Wars." The last word was spoken with a quiet intensity that surprised her guest.

"You traveled together for a time, did you not?" Darra finally said into the stretching silence.

Rosethorn seemed to come back to herself and nodded slowly. "Yes, for three years."

It wasn't particularly what Darra wanted to know, but she still politely asked. "Where did you go?"

"Chammur on the border of Sotat and Janaal, at first," the Dedicate said as she stirred her tea slowly. The tremble in her hands seemed to increase as she added, "Then to Yanjing and Gyongxe. The road home was...long."

"After a long journey, it usually is." Mistress Chandler was less interested in events outside of her own city than her husband, but something about that tugged at her memory. She set it aside for later review.

"Briar is a good man, Mistress Chandler." The statement was the first thing Rosethorn had offered on her own. Her companion's smile brightened.

"Darra, please, I wish us to be friends, especially since it seems we are mothers-in-law together."

Rosethorn did not smile back, but her expression was not unkind. "Darra, if you insist. I do not know what it is you are hoping to find. Briar is much like any other young man. He has made mistakes, as most young men do, but that does not make him any less a good man."

Uncertain of what to make of that, her visitor asked, "And he had your full support in marrying Tris despite their young age?"

"The four of them are grown beyond their years," the grave dedicate said softly. "And yes, Briar had my full support in marrying Tris. I was the first person he informed of his decision."

"You are very close, then."

"Yes, we are."

"Do you and Tris speak often, or...?" The merchant was not as successful at keeping her tone light this time, pain coming through the words despite the smile on the woman's face.

Rosethorn shrugged, and kept her own words calm. "When she comes to see Glaki, we visit but we have not had many chances to be social since she returned from Narmorn and then Lightsbridge."

Relief eased the pain a little. She would have born a confession of declaring Tris to be like her daughter from the dedicate. Or at least she would have tried. But she prefered this a great deal more. "Of course. Well, I believe I have taken enough of your time for one day..."

"Before you go," her host said as she tried to rise, "I wish to tell you a story. It's about a nephew of yours, Amery Chandler."

Darra sat once more, her smile a little sad as she remembered the bright young man and his remarkable gift. "That's right, he was killed by pirates here, at Winding Circle. I had completely forgotten...did Tris see him before he died?"

The stout woman took a deep breath before saying softly, "Yes, in fact she was the last person to speak with him before he betrayed us to the pirates. Opened our gates and allowed them in to murder dedicates and novices alike. And then she watched him die."

Rosethorn told her story solemnly but kept strictly to the facts. And when she had finished, she looked Darra straight in the eyes and said, "And beyond that, I have seen Tris' scars. I don't know that we can be friends, Mistress Chandler, because I also came from a place of abuse. I know what marks lashes and whips leave, and your daughter bears them. The signs of beatings and neglect no child should ever have to face. You may not have given her those marks personally, but you weren't there to protect her either. I can't be friends with someone I don't respect, and I don't know how to respect someone who doesn't, by my reckoning, deserve it."

Darra sat for a long time in silence, Rosethorn watching her unmoving as the woman paled and her face drew tight with aanger. Finally she rose, straightening her skirts with hands that shook as she said in a quavering voice, "I believe I have taken enough of your time for one day. Thank you for the tea; it was delicious." And with three quick steps, she was gone.

"Oh, love," Lark said from the door of her workroom, where she had been sitting just out of sight. "Was that necessary?"

"Yes," Rosethorn replied bluntly, turning to give her partner a long look. "She needed to know. Even if she had been unaware before, those marks are still her fault. Children are to be protected by those they are given to."

Lark winced at the tone but still nodded her agreement. "I know, but do you think there might have been a better way to say it?"

"I'm not the peacemaker between us."

"And well I know it." The taller woman put a hand on her companion's shoulder as she added, "I just hope you haven't made things worse."

The eyes that met her own were as full of sadness as resolve. "As do I."

-090-

Valden was found by his wife outside the cottage, her lips thinly compressed and face turning red and white by turns. He was seated on a bench beneath some trees that provided shade and a partial screen from those walking by.

"Are you alright, dear?" he asked as she sat next to him, taking a hand in both of his own.

"I don't know," she admitted, eyes still focused somewhere else. "Valden, I was just told something so utterly incomprehensible and yet, if it is true, so many things suddenly make sense."

"What did she say?"

The story came out in fits and starts. Avery coming to the temple, supposedly to deliver a message. The scrying mirrors all breaking, and the pirates coming against the temple in force. The betrayal as someone helped set a spell over the temple, and then poisoned the food for good measure to be sure none would wake. The gates being opened, and how it was only through the intervention of others that the temple still stood at all.

"It is true," Valden confirmed softly as the words trickled to a stop. He held up a hand as she began to argue. "I am certain, dear. Who told you this?"

"Dedicate Rosethorn."

Valden nodded, accepting, but he frowned. "Why? There was no reason..."

"Tris saw him here," his wife cut in hoarsely, "as did her teachers and foster-siblings. He even stayed with them for a time, at the Discipline Cottage."

With each word the blood drained a little more from the merchant's face. "No."

Darra nodded, tears beginning to fall once again as she continued, "Yes. And Tris was _there_ when he...the first time they meet a Chandler and-!"

"It explains much," her husband said through numb lips as he stared out into nothing. "The hostility, the assumptions."

"And there is more." Darra paused, as though unable to make the words come. Denial made her want to scream that it couldn't be true, but there had been no lie in Rosethorn's voice. Eventually, she whispered, "Valden...Valden, did they beat her?"

Valden knew who without her having to explain, which was perhaps all the confirmation she needed. He sat silently staring at her, his face a mask though his eyes blazed with emotions she could not name. In the end, he only nodded slowly, his hand tightening on hers as he did.

"I did not know until a year after we had taken her to the temple," he admitted softly. "I did not realize...my uncle, the first she was sent to, wrote to the others when he passed her on. No one told me that they were forewarned, and each was worse than the last. She never even had a chance, with any of them."

"Is that why Almsley stepped down from the family council?" his wife asked as she began to piece together events from almost a decade ago.

"Yes," he agreed as he looked down and cleared his throat roughly. "We had...words over it. Reparations were made, quietly, within the family. It was the money I intended to use for her upkeep and care when we brought her home. If we brought her home. Even if she had been possessed, or inhuman, she should not have been treated so. Not by those who shared her blood."

"And you never told me." The words were heavy with accusation, and Valden accepted them even as he shrugged.

"I knew it would only upset you, and what could we do about it then? The contract was signed, and the templed advised us to keep to the terms of the contract when we signed it. That may have been simple greed; we did, after all, have the guarantee of a partial return of our funds, if we came for her sooner. But I wasn't sure that doing so would make things worse, and even if we had, what would we have done with her if they couldn't help? I had no answers for her curse. No way to keep her and the rest of our family safe."

"They must think we are _monsters_." The words were an anguished whisper that tore at the soul. Valden folded his wife into his embrace and held her close as she struggled to keep even a semblance of calm. "What else could they possibly think of a family who has treated their own child so? Dedicate Rosethorn may not have been kind in her telling, but she is right. We are as responsible for those marks as those who made them. We _failed her_..."

Valden had no answer for this and only held her closer, glad of the screen the bushes around them to shield them from passers by.

"It will take much to repair this," he said eventually. "Especially with Tris. We must be cautious, and we must not fail her again. We will leave her better than we found her, one way or another. I believe I have learned enough to speak with Briar; we will see where that conversation leads and go on from there."

Darra nodded as she dabbed carefully at her eyes, smoothing the front of her husband's tunic as she sniffed, "And I, Tris. Do you think I should bring up the beatings...?"

"Not yet, no. That will take time to address," her husband said tiredly. "And more trust than she likely has for us now. I think we should stick to the marriage and making sure it is what is best for her. It is our first priority at this time."

His wife nodded, then paused before saying softly, "There is something else."

Valden wanted to laugh, but it wasn't with amusement. Instead he said gruffly, "What more could there be?"

"Briar and his teacher...I did not know this, but they were traveling a few years ago."

A common enough story among mages. Valden shrugged casually. "Where?"

"Yanjing. And Gyongxe." Darra watched as her husband's face shadowed with concern and sighed. "I had hoped I wasn't right."

"It is likely they were caught in the fighting," he said gravely, the lines in his face deepening. "And it would also explain...he is rather rough around the edges, at times. We shall need to investigate. A broken man does not make a good husband."

"Yes, I suppose you are right."

-090-

Tris woke to the smell of hot tea and fresh sweet buns as she slowly came to in her bed. Yawning, she climbed out from under the covers and wandered, still mostly asleep, into the bathroom. There she bathed, bit by bit regaining the waking world in the wonderful heat of her copper-tub bath. It was somewhere in that period of time that she realized she hadn't seen her husband ( _my foster-brother, she corrected herself mentally_ ) yet and wondered if he'd come to bed that night.

A dress and clean underclothes were retrieved from drawers and the standing wardrobe, and after getting dressed, she wandered to the small table here a tray awaited her as usual. Generally, she disapproved of having breakfast in her rooms; her legs worked just fine to get up and down the stairs, but mornings after major workings were the exception. Again, she sat and ate far more than she usually did, finding herself ravenous after the work of the day before. Even with the extra food she could tell her dress would need adjusting for a few days, it felt too loose about her middle.

It wasn't until she was on her second cup of tea and spotted her clothes lying on the floor that she realized what she had done. Or at least part of it.

She had worn her shift to sleep. Not her wrist-to-neck-to-ankles nightgown that kept her completely covered. No, she had worn the shift, which was semi-transparent, sleeveless, barely covered her breasts…

It was in the middle of this mental collapse that Daja walked in.

"What's wrong?" she asked, spying her sister's bloodless face. The book she had come to ask about was forgotten completely by the way Tris' eyes snapped guiltily to her face.

"I...am not sure I want to tell you," her sister responded faintly, dropping her eyes to the floor.

"Is it your parents?" Daja pressed, taking the other chair at the small table.

"No." The response this time was quick and firm, and the smith mage felt herself breath a little easier at that. "No, it's not them."

"Good. I saw them yesterday." This was a tactic Daja had learned from Sandry, that sometimes approaching a problem from an angle worked better than head-on. Her sister's eyes came up from her study of the floor, this time full of curiosity. "They came by our stall."

"Oh, did they want something?" Her voice was steadier, and the panic receded from her posture.

"No, not in particular. They seemed interested in what we sell," the taller woman drawled as she stretched lazily, noting how her sister relaxed even more with her own lack of tension. "Your father liked the rain-cover charms; he might be speaking to you about them."

"They aren't ready to be sold anywhere but Emelan yet." This was the perfectionist coming out in Tris, and Daja resisted the urge to roll her eyes. They'd had this conversation before. "I can't get the charm stronger without eroding the glass..."

"You can talk to him about it," the smith said blithely, deciding it was time. "Now what's wrong?"

Tris almost didn't answer, but something about Daja's frank gaze and solid presence made her will to keep this private cave in before the need to share. "...I think I might have undressed in front of Briar last night. I came in from scrying, and I didn't even _think_. I was so tired..."

The Trader smothered a laugh and instead asked, "Was he even in the room?

This was a point Tris hadn't considered, and she replied cautiously, "I don't know. I assumed so, it was late at night...where else would he be?"

Her sister's shrug was vague. "In the gardens, maybe. Or in his shop. He was in a foul mood yesterday after I got back. When he decided glaring at everyone wasn't enough and snipped off my nose, I decided to leave him to himself. I haven't seen him since then."

That news was almost enough to put Tris off track again, but the thought that he might have been present was still at the fore of her thoughts. "Oh, well...I don't know. He might have been asleep, but I can't believe I was so _careless_."

Daja's tone softened as she said carefully, "Tris, you do realize there's nothing you've got that he hasn't seen before. Multiple times, too."

Tris' eyes flashed as she snorted loudly. "Yes, thank you for that and making me feel worse. Because what I need right now is the reminder that not having been undressed around others makes me unique among us four." The sharp words weren't directed at Daja precisely, but the venom behind them still made her wince.

Her attempt at a humorous quip fell a bit flat. "Really? I thought Sandry was still mostly in that category with you."

"You know what I mean." Tris sighed as Daja waited patiently for the rest, "It's just not fair..."

Daja rolled her eyes at that. "Tris...this is Briar we're talking about. If he saw anything, which seems doubtful, it probably didn't bother him one way or the other."

Her sister's flush deepened again, and she said grudgingly, "That's not what I mean. It's not fair that the first time someone might have seen me without my clothes is not in...ideal circumstances. Of course, that is about normal for me, isn't it?" Daja hadn't known Tris could literally turn scarlet, but she supposed she shouldn't have been surprised with how fair she was.

The Trader's brows rose in surprise. "I thought you weren't interested."

"I'm not." The words were an automatic response and said too quickly. The smith mage's lips quirked up in a knowing smile.

 _Liar._

 _...it's like Sandry said. Sometimes, it's just easier to save your pride than admit the truth. It never seems to work out, so it's easier to say you aren't interested than admit that there's no one interested in you._

The knowing smile softened into a sympathetic one, then changed to a considering frown.

"What?"

"A couple of things make sense now, actually," Daja explained as she rested her chin on one fist. "I wondered why you were spending more time at the mage gatherings last fall. You usually hate big and mostly pointless social events."

"I don't _hate_ them; they just aren't my favorite." Her grimace told the lie for what it was, and Daja's smile grew again. "Everyone wants to pry into everyone else's business. It gets irritating after awhile."

"Right. And then you were gone for several evenings, which are usually spent with one us or up reading in your study."

"...he asked me out to dinner, a couple of times." This time her words were soft, almost contrite in the admission that she had not shared before.

"I'm a little hurt you didn't tell us but mostly because that's stupid," her sister said carefully. "What if something had happened?"

"Briar knew where I was." Tris flushed hotly again, and Daja could imagine with inward glee how that introduction had gone. "The first time we went out he saw us. Together."

Slowly a smile began to grow on Daja's face. "Tris and a fellow under a tree, K I S S-"

A scowl abruptly flashed onto Tris' face, and she made a disgusted sound in her throat. "No, none of that ever happened. Apparently, I'm not particularly _inviting_." It was a good thing the word had no actual cutting power or there would have been blood on the floor. Whose blood, Daja wasn't sure, and she was in no hurry to find out. "Just because I don't think it's a game. Just because I think it should mean more than fun for a night and then off your separate ways..." With an audible click of her teeth, Tris shut her mouth. Taking a deep breath, the weather witch blew it back out slowly and said, "And now I'm whining. I _hate_ whining. The point is he changed his mind, made it very apparent he didn't want to see me again. Ever. And that was it."

"Tris...you don't get only one chance at love." And of any of them, Daja had the right to say that to her. But Tris wasn't done yet.

"That wasn't my first chance," she said in a wistful voice. "Or my second. Or third. And every time I even think for a moment it might work, even for a little while...it doesn't. So I'm not trying anymore. Or hoping. I'm starting to think it's not even worth it in the first place." The last phrase in particular hit Daja hard, and her sister could see that. Deciding it was time to talk about something else, Tris asked briskly, "You don't think Briar is going to be...weird about this? If he was even there."

"The only reason he'll act strange is if you do," Daja replied automatically. "So...don't."

"That...is actually good advice." Tris frowned suddenly as another thought occurred to her. "Why was he upset?"

The question was enough to derail Daja from pursuing the previous subject, and she let loose a snort of her own. "I don't know, but he better be over it today. If he bites me again, I just might bite back. Hard." The sisters shared toothy grins, then the mage smith asked, "So are you going to ask him?"

Tris' response was almost flippant as she lifted her mug to her lips. "Am I going to ask who what?"

Daja didn't need their bond to know she was bluffing. "Don't play stupid; it doesn't suit you."

"I'm not asking anything," Tris replied with a resolution she didn't feel. "If he wants to mention it, if he even saw anything, he can."

"A sensible idea," Daja agreed gravely, barely keeping her lips from twitching upward.

Tris eyed her, then said sourly. "Stop laughing at me."

"I'm not laughing," Daja disagreed in that same grave voice.

"Not _out loud_...why did you come up here anyway?"

At which point Daja remembered her book, and the entire event was forgotten.

For a time.

-090-

Daja was the only one downstairs in the dining room when Briar finally appeared, looking tired and disgruntled and still wearing his clothes from the day before. It was the lunch hour, and food was laid out on the sideboard for whoever wanted it.

"Are you in a better mood?" the Trader asked carefully as she poured him a cup of tea from the pot she was using.

"A little," he mumbled as he scrubbed his face with both hands. "I'm sorry about yesterday, though. I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Her smile told him she had accepted the apology. "What was wrong?"

"A stupid bleater that I let get under my skin when I should know better." Her smile grew at his grimace as he took a sip. "Honey? You should have warned me it was your stuff."

"You should feel honored, most people never even get a taste," she told him with mock severity.

"My tongue disagrees. Honey." The jar was passed over, and Briar added two spoonfuls and stirred vigorously before he attempted another taste. "So, has Tris come down yet?" he asked in a strangely neutral tone as he kept his eyes on his mug.

"No, but she's up." The smith mage watched her brother closely. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't place what and she couldn't imagine it was what Tris was worried about. "I went to check on her awhile ago; she's probably now meditating."

He nodded, looking relieved for some reason. "Oh, ok."

"You haven't been up there yet?" Her question was perfectly innocent, and he didn't notice the way she watched him closely as he was too busy telling himself blushing would be a very bad idea right about then.

"I couldn't sleep and went down to work on my other shakkans," Briar replied, thinking it was the absolute truth. "Too wound up. I ended up falling asleep at my work table; my neck feels horrible." That was, unfortunately, also true, and he rubbed at it absently. He was going to have knots there for days. "I decided to take care of my stomach first and everything else second." As though suiting his actions to his words, he reached over and stole one of the meat pastries off her plate. Daja would normally have protested the theft, but he looked pathetic enough to ignore, and there were more on the counter besides.

She did, however, sit back and study him. Eventually, Briar noticed the attention, sticking the last bite in his mouth before taking a second one from her plate.

 _What?_ His mind held a note of suspicion, and she decided to go ahead and at least address one of her concerns.

"Tris and I talked."

Briar had learned very quickly what that tone of voice coupled with those words meant. He had also learned 'It's not my fault' was the worst possible response, followed closely by 'I didn't do it' and 'She _said_ she didn't mind'. Instead, he shrugged and picked one of the few innocuous replies Lark had painstakingly taught him, if only to help keep the peace. He had to swallow first, but that just meant he could take another bite afterwards.

"What about?"

"A fellow she was seeing recently. And that you knew about him."

Briar's brow rose slightly. "She talked about him? What for?"

"Mmm..." Daja decided to skip the bit about Tris going to bed in her shift, Briar either knew already or he didn't and that wasn't her business or the point. "We were discussing something else, and I connected a couple events from before. I hadn't realized how she really felt about...love. And relationships."

"Oh. You mean her 'I'm giving up because there's no point' tripe." Briar grimaced and put down the half-eaten pastry as though he'd lost his appetite. "Yeah, we've had that talk too." The grimace became a fierce glare as he added, "And then that _belbun_ came along...I'm just glad I found out about it before it was too late."

"What do you mean?" Daja asked in a dangerously soft voice.

Briar sat back and spread his hands in a shrug. "So, I spotted them while I was out with...someone. I waited until she gets home, and we talk about it. He isn't who I imagined her with, but she seems happy so I'm happy for her, and the only thing she makes me promise is to not tell you two. I think she was afraid you or duchess would insist on butting in, and she just wanted to keep this to herself. Fair enough. But I'm still her brother and so I managed to arrange to meet the guy, you know, make sure he's alright. But before we meet, I overhear something I'm not meant to know. His lordling father is a big name in shipping and decided if he can get his son to snag Tris, he'll never have to pay a mimander for tied up winds again. Except the son, he prefers boys, so once the deal is sealed and a few brats have been popped out, their words not mine, he'll go back to his pleasures elsewhere. Maybe before that. After that, our conversation was a lot less friendly. And the next time he saw Tris, he broke it off."

Daja's had gone very still, and anger burned in her eyes as she growled, "Briar..."

The ex-thief held up his hands placatingly and said, "I should have let you in on the fun, I know. But...she made me promise. So I kept it."

His sister counted months in her head and abruptly asked, "...is that when you came home with a black eye, said some bleater had tried to nick your purse in an alley?"

"Yeah." The grimness faded as he added, "I knew you didn't believe me, but I didn't care."

"Thank you, for taking care of it," Daja said, kicking him lightly in the shin. "Next time bring me along."

"That's what brothers are for," he replied with a sigh. He probably deserved it. "Unfortunately, he was a bigger ass than I thought and didn't keep his mouth shut. It's probably a good thing Tris decided to stop attending the mage society socials on her own. It took me a good month to hunt down everyone spreading rumors about whether or not she prefered dogs to people and 'encourage' them to stop." The look he traded this time with Daja was knowing. She had helped with some of those 'encouragements' but hadn't known where they're originated at the time. She was especially glad now she'd agreed to help. "By the time we went for Niko's thing, where they gave him the award for his service to Emelan, it was safe. Mostly."

"And that's why you really stuck close to Tris all night. Not because you were hiding from some jealous husband you'd managed to annoy. I thought the whole 'she lied, and I didn't know' sounded a little implausible." Daja tilted her head and raised one brow elegantly. "You're usually more careful than that."

Briar did grin this time, and it was a genuine one. "I didn't mind. I actually had fun, and I think she did too. She's very good at scathing comments about people and their clothes, and we even had a bet going on whether or not Sandry would work up the nerve to ask that visiting diplomat she thought was handsome to dance. You know, the one who came from the place where men asking women is considered improper."

"I don't recall." It took a moment for Daja to remember why, then flushed slightly. "I was occupied at the time."

Briars' grin grew wider. "So I remember. She was very pretty. We always wondered...?"

Daja shook her head, and her braids rattled together softly. "She was getting ready to travel home to Sotat, and I think I'm beginning to agree with Tris on some things. It should mean something. So...we didn't. We talked, almost the whole night, but that was it."

Briar shrugged his shoulders in understanding. "As long as you're happy."

"There you two are." Tris stood in the doorway, neatly dressed and her hair tucked away in its snood. "I thought I heard you, Briar. Where have you been all day?"

"Asleep on my workbench." Ruefully, Briar rubbed his neck and stifled a yawn. "Must've dozed off while working last night. Sorry if I worried you. Did everything go alright at the Citadel?"

"As well as usual." The weather witch took the third seat and accepted when Daja offered her some tea. She didn't bother asking what kind it was before reaching for the honey. If Daja had made it, the tea would need it. "Not all the news was good, but it never is. There's some pirate activity along the coast. Nothing serious yet, but it's still worries me."

"The Duke has a strong navy; he'll take care of it," Daja reminded her confidently. She waved a hand carelessly, as though brushing aside cobwebs. "And they've been working on new lines of defense since the attack almost a decade ago. If they're stupid enough to try, they won't just blunt their teeth. They'll crack their jaws in half."

"You're probably right." Whatever she had been about to add was cut off by her stomach growling loudly. She flushed and closed her mouth again.

"I'll get us some more pastries, and we can all talk," Briar said as he hopped to his feet. "Primarily about an idea I had regarding your metal trees..."

-090-

Author's Notes::

Some of you may have noticed last week that was having some issues with it's alert system. Chapter 5 was uploaded as promised on Friday, but the alert never went out even when I deleted and resubmitted the chapter later in the day just to check. This is not the first issue the alert system has had in recent memory, so maybe it would be better just to check the website by no later than Friday evening. I am pretty confident that, unless something major goes wrong, there is going to be a chapter up fairly early each Friday (East Coast Time) for your enjoyment!

More News: I haven't mentioned this before, but it probably needs to be said. I do not like Battle Magic and have not read Melting Stones. The first is for many reasons. The second is because the first hurt so bad that I couldn't risk another blow to a beloved series and risk ruining it forever when the response to it was not great at all. If you want a more in depth discussion of either, feel free to PM me and we'll go to it. In terms of the story, this does mean that I have changed a few minor details from the Battle Magic book, and am ignoring Melting Stone's entirely. I have no idea, especially in regards to Melting Stones, how that makes the story clash with cannon. But it is what it is, so fair warning for you.

And One More Time: Is what I would say if I had remembered to post this before. I feel kind of terrible, actually, because this is sort of Fanfiction 101. I own nothing. Tamora Pierce is the original creator of the Circle of Magic book series, and in so far as I know owns everything in regards to it. I make absolutely no money from this project, and it is purely for my (and your!) enjoyment of the series. Any character not from the original series and the plot are mine, and please ask if you want to borrow them. Thank you.

Please review, it makes for a happy author!

~CB~


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7:

The plan had been simple. Valden and Darra rose early, having breakfast at a local outdoor eatery before heading to their daughter's home. What was to be discussed had already been gone over, and each had their own ideas of how the conversations were going to go. And so, without so much as a by your leave, they descended on the three-story house on Cheesemen Street and pounced.

Tris had been expecting and dreading this particular meeting for some time, but it had happened in a manner that was completely unexpected. Her mother had shown up at the house without warning just as the eighth bell had rung. She had appropriated Tris ("Please tell your husband it is rude to glare so, Tris. You will be returned home before too long; we are just going to have a little mother-daughter chat.") and led the way to a nice Inn where she hired a private room, ordered refreshments and a pitcher of chilled tea (a new way of drinking a familiar beverage), settled herself in a well-padded chair and waited for the servers to leave.

"This is awkward," Darra began when she was certain they were alone. "But it has been put off for far too long. We will begin in the easiest place: is your husband pleasing you as he should?"

Of all the things Tris had been expecting, this had not been one of them. "I…what?" she asked, completely derailed from her train of thought by the change.

"I know this isn't how these sorts of conversations generally go," her mother cut in, sounding unusually strained. "But, had this happened at home, before the marriage certain assurances would have been made. We would have known your future husband's family, and known he was taught such things by his father or another trusted male relative. As we have none of these assurances, should it be necessary your father will take him aside and offer a few…suggestions for pleasing a new bride."

Tris felt the blush spreading on her cheeks, a rising heat that started at her chin and rose to her forehead steadily. Her voice was even only through pure stubbornness. "That will not be necessary…"

Her mother raised both brows slowly, a cat-like grin coming onto her face. "Really?

Well, then this should be interesting…"

-090-

Briar had considered refusing to go. It had been a request on his end, unlike the abduction of his wife, which meant he at least had a choice. In the end, it had been Tris' lack of choice that had made his for him. He could say no, but she couldn't. It wouldn't be fair. Not to mention, it might give her parents the wrong impression.

The food house Valden had chosen was respectable but not plush. Exactly the sort of place a merchant would choose. He ordered the local ale, and Briar some greenberry juice. Valden looked surprised but waited until the server had returned with their order before asking, "Is that your choice or my daughter's?"

"Mine," the plant mage said simply as he sipped the cool drink.

"Ah, trouble holding your drink, then?" The tone was a touch mocking, and the mage struggled to keep his temper in check.

"I have no idea," Briar replied lightly. "I'm an ambient mage, Master Chandler, as we explained before. When I drink, it loosens my control and allows my magic to use me, instead of me using it."

"Use you...?" This time Valden sounded concerned, and Briar smiled slightly.

"Uncontrolled plant growth, most likely," he said as though discussing the weather. "The bench you're sitting on is wooden. I can, with a little coaxing, make it remember it was once a tree. And if I lose control, it might decided to take root right here, regardless of what's in the way or who is sitting upon it."

"So you drink juice." Valden didn't seem to know what else to say.

"And tea. Tea is nice too." Briar's smile held too many teeth to be friendly, and his companion considered him carefully. The merchant couldn't deny the relationship had definitely begun on the wrong foot, and that it was entirely his fault. He also should not have begun with so belittling a tone. So, he kept his reaction to the subtle hostility in check for once and shrugged amicably.

"Ah, I see." Valden took his time with a sip of his own mug before asking, "Do you-"

He cut off abruptly as he stared at the plant mage's hands. Briar glanced down, seeing the black and white roses blooming along his knuckles as he lifted his own mug.

"They're _moving_ ," Valden breathed, blinking as though he didn't believe his own eyes.

"They're an accident," the young man replied with a soft laugh. "I...well, they told you I was arrested three times for stealing in Hajra, right?"

"Yes, it was mentioned." The merchant's reply was faint, and his eyes had yet to move from the writhing vines and flowers. "I thought they were gloves," he murmured as a hand rose to his mouth. "Fancy gloves. I've seen mages wear gloves before. But this..."

Briar shrugged and stretched out both hands for inspection. It helped if people got their fill of looking before moving on. "When you're caught stealing, they mark your hands. Big x's, right here." He tapped the web of both hands, and pink blooms appeared in response. "Most places, when you enter the market place, they ask to see your hands. I got tired of being followed by guards for a past I couldn't help. I would have starved and died without stealing. So, I borrowed my sister's needles and took some dye's from Rosethorn's workroom. I was just going to do a pattern on the backs of my hands, but it kind of got out of control..." Briar pulled back his sleeves now, revealing the vines that ran up his arms to his elbows.

"And they move? Constantly?" The older man couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the tangle of vines, leaves and flowers, and rubbed his own palms together absently. "Can you feel it?"

"No, not a bit." Briar shrugged and lowered his sleeves again. "Sandry wasn't happy because I ruined her needles accidently, but other than that, no one really seemed to mind."

"Well. Ok, then." Valden cleared his throat, taking another deep drink of his mug as he tried not to stare at Briar's hands. "Where was...oh, right. Do you know why I asked you here, Briar?"

Briar tilted his head to one side in acknowledgement. "I have an idea, but I'm not sure I want to cooperate," he admitted as he leaned back in his seat.

That seemed to surprise the merchant. "Oh?"

"It's your people's custom, not mine," Briar explained as he picked up his drink once more. "If Tris wants to share with your wife that's her choice. But I prefer to keep what happens behind closed doors between us."

Valdn seemed surprised, but he merely shrugged and added, "Then you don't have any...questions...?"

"Why would I?" Briar replied, clearly puzzled.

"You are young, inexperienced." Valden didn't miss his companion's muffled snort and raised a brow at that. "If you need help, shall we say, keeping a wife happy..."

The mage's head shake was firm. "I've already had my questions of that nature answered, thanks just the same. Rosethorn for some, Niko for others." The merchant supposed he shouldn't be surprised after all. The boy- well, young man really-had no other family. Of course, he would have asked his questions of his teachers; who else did he have? And, if Valden's information was correct, he had not come into his marriage as an innocent.

"Then, I think we can move onto my other questions."

Briar paused, halfway to his feet. He had been preparing to leave.

"Other questions...?"

-090-

The questions had come fast and thick and were still shockingly candid, despite Rosethorn's preparation. Tris had, in the time since then, decided on her own to change a few of the details that had seemed more than slightly outlandish. But when her mother frowned, and then gave a snort of disgust, she wondered if that had been particularly wise after all.

"If he is a healthy, virile young man then he will need to release himself more often than that throughout the week," her mother had exclaimed knowingly. "You are certain he isn't given to…fey-ish tendencies?"

Tris' indignant and immediate response seemed to appease her mother for the time being. The Chandler matron waved the matter aside, continuing with, " Have you begun to discuss the matter of children yet? You are both young, but you shouldn't wait too long."

"N-no," the weather witch admitted, trying to hide behind her tea cup with limited success. "This moved so quickly…"

"Oh?" Again, her mother's brows rose, a sign her daughter was quickly coming to dread. "Master Niko implied your courtship was a long one."

"I suppose that depends on how you look at it," Tris amended, quickly putting her story together in her head. "Officially, we have only been together for a short time. But I suppose it is something we've been…stepping around for years?" The story fell into place beautifully, and while Tris normally would have been congratulating herself for such a successful weaving, a certain pattern began to show that she was increasingly uncomfortable with.

-090-

"We went and visited your teacher, Dedicate Rosethorn, yesterday," Valden began, his voice falling into a more business-like tone as he went. "She mentioned that you visited Yanjin, and Gynoxe."

"We did," Briar agreed, his entire demeanor neutral as he settled back in his seat. "Why?"

"We have some trading contracts through there," the older man replied as though feeling his way along cautiously. "Or we did, before the war. I'm not certain we'll ever been able to re-establish a trade route there again."

"Thousands died in a massacre." The plant mage's entire posture seemed to change, though his voice remained calm. Anger rose from him in waves, and though he did not frown, his eyes _glared_. "And you're concerned about _profits_. How very like a _merchant_."

Valden accepted the response calmly. He had expected something like this. "My apologies, I said that poorly. So you were there?"

"We were." Briar's body had relaxed, some, but his eyes still burned with a pain that nearly seared Valden to the bone.

"War changes men." The merchant watched closely as he said each carefully chosen word. "Hardens them. Breaks them. I had an uncle...he was never the same when he returned home."

The mage nodded his understanding absently. "Which war?"

"Does it matter?" his companion asked softly.

Briar hesitated only a moment before agreeing, "No. No, it doesn't." He seemed to consider something, then admitted, "I've been to a soul healer. Tris all but dragged me there before she went to Lightsbridge for her academic licensure. It's been over two years since then."

"So she knows." The words were spoken in obvious relief, and Briar blinked as he realized why. Of course, they wouldn't want their daughter married to a broken man. And two years ago...two years ago he wouldn't have been fit to be anyone's husband.

"She was the first person I could talk to about it." The memory was still fresh in his mind: the moment he had looked at her and remembered he really could tell her anything. That she would walk with him through anything and drag him through it by the ear, if need be. "I'm not all healed; I'm not sure I ever will be. But I'm a little better every day, and Tris is a big part of that."

"Good." Valden's smile was the most genuine one Briar had seen yet, and it made something inside of him relax. He hadn't realized it before, but it was Tris' smile. "That's...that's good." Then the man paused, as though on the verge of saying more.

Eventually, the young man felt bad enough about the awkward silence to say, "Was there something else you wanted?"

"Yes," Valden admitted like a man knowing his words may not be received well and needed to say them anyway. "Why Tris?"

-090-

As children, Briar had always been there more than her sisters, and it was a favor she had returned. When her hair had been 'pruned', he had been the one to assure her that, despite its short length, no one would mistake her for a boy. When it was pruning time for his shakkan, she always had a plate of his favorite cookies waiting afterwards to help sooth the ouches. When she'd hit twelve and everything in her body had gone crazy, he'd been there even when she's screamed and thrown things at him. And when she realized his first crush was a pretty blue-eyed novice, she had listened to hours of angst and bad poetry, even when it felt like her heart was being torn in two.

There were more stories, so many things they had shared with each other and no one else. She had taught him to read, he had taught her to pick locks. She had received his first distillation of violets. He had the piece of glass she accidentally made when practicing her lightning strikes at the beach. And her first (and only) kiss…

The memory was not one she shared with her mother, but it was there in the back of her mind regardless. One she had tried to suppress from the one time she had been out of control since mastering her magic. The party had been Sandry's idea, the alcohol Briar's, the place Daja's and the way to get out unseen hers. The drink of choice had been a heavily spiced wine, usually served warm. Briar took care of getting the drink, Tris the fire to warm it with.

Much of the night she didn't recall. She knew Sandry had passed out first (a blessing, for their clothes had been close to unraveling before that). Daja had stumbled outside to be sick rather noisily in the grass. It was a good thing the barn was of old construction (all wood pegs and glue) or it might have fallen over while they were still inside, if the number Daja's rampant magic had done on the metal wine basket had been any indication. Later, when she had tried to melt it down to make a new one, it had refused. It now sat in her workshop, a curiosity and a reminder.

Briar had collapsed next to her on the straw near the fire, more full of wine than she was but not quite as far gone as their companions. Tris had partaken of little so far herself, afraid of what might happen if she did. Clothes coming apart was embarrassing, but hardly life threatening (unless one counted dying of mortification). But a freak tornado? Or a random lightning storm? The other three had been confident they wouldn't be affected by the wine in regards to their magic, so far they had all be wrong. Even as Briar stretched, more moss and grass sprouted beneath him, seeming to spontaneously burst into growth from his mere presence.

He'd leaned close while she foggily tried to figure out the rate of plant growth versus how much he'd drunk and planted his kiss firmly on her mouth. When she asked why he'd done that, he'd replied quite seriously that she was beautiful and that he'd always wanted to. Shortly afterwards, he'd fallen asleep or passed out, and things got rather fuzzy as for some reason the bottle had seemed very inviting after that. In the end, her magic had gotten out of control (and had been what gotten them in trouble; the wind blasts had ravaged the surrounding countryside some, but no one had been injured too badly) and when all four had woken the next morning a very angry (and somewhat amused) Niko had been there to make sure they weren't injured and then force them to clean up the mess they'd made.

She'd never spoken of it to anyone, but she had also never forgotten.

-090-

Briar's voice froze. "What do you mean?"

"Why did you choose Tris?" The merchant's tone was bland, but the young man across from him sensed his skepticism. "I have asked around and have heard many things. You're a well liked man, Briar Moss. You have a great many admirers, female admirers. You could have had your pick of them and did from what I heard. A different pretty bit on your arm each week, and then each moon or two as time went on. There's more than one that I've heard of that would welcome you back as well, married or not." The young man had the grace to look uncomfortable, and Valden chuckled quietly. "Oh, no judgement from me on that score. What happened before Tris was...before. You've been faithful since?"

"Of course!" Briar said with such contempt that the merchant's smile widened more.

"Then it doesn't matter what did you with who before except this one thing," Valden went on seriously. "Why, out of all of them, did you pick to settle with my daughter?"

The ex-thief didn't respond as he weighed the question in his mind. The street kid inside yelled it was a trap, and that he should avoid answering it at all costs. The inner mage who had navigated political shark swarms grudgingly admitted the man had a right to ask. A quiet voice he didn't recognize pointed out he should probably stop debating and get thinking.

"You see," Valden continued as the silence stretched uncomfortably long. "I asked about her too. She's...less favorably liked over all. Those who do like her are almost fierce in their support. Protective even, which amazes me because I can't see someone who can supposedly summon lightning out of a clear sky needing protection. But there are also those who fear her. Who whisper and wonder if she'll lose control of the forces she says she has tied up in her hair. So why, out of all the women you could have had, did you pick her?"

"You're right," Briar admitted softly as he looked away in obvious discomfort. "I did...see a lot of women for a time. I didn't lay with all of them, and I never did anything any of them didn't agree to first. But I rarely turned down an offer from anyone who was willing to kiss or...well...more." The mage's tone shifted as he realized for himself the biggest difference between his past dalliances and Tris. Certainty crept into his voice, giving it strength as he went on. "Those 'pretty bits', though...they might have been fun to kiss in a dark corner, or snuggle up to in a bed, but they were as real as the morning mist. Here and gone again, without leaving anything of substance behind."

"You don't raise a family with a pretty bit," he added as he finally looked Valden in the eye and refused to look away. "You don't tell them the darkest things about you and expect them to understand. You don't show them your soft spots and expect them to protect them. You don't give them your heart and know that it's safe. Tris isn't a pretty bit, she _better_. She's real and honest and those bloody bleaters can say what they want but she's twice the woman any of those pretty bits were or could be." The merchant raised one brow slightly, and the plant mage felt himself begin to blush. And yet it was true, he realized as he finished with a quiet, "That's why I picked her."

Valden Chandler just smiled. "That is a very good answer, Briar Moss. An honest answer, too. And what have you done recently for your wife to show your appreciation for who she is?"

The ex-thief wasn't paying much attention to his father-in-law, distracted as he was by that self revelation. The last statement caught him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"A good husband tends his wife like...well, like you tend your garden. She needs care and affection. A firm hand sometimes but also understanding and trust." The idea wasn't one Briar had considered before, and his mind latched on it in an attempt to ignore the revelation of moments before. "So what are you doing to tend your marriage, Briar Moss? Have you had any meals together?"

"We eat almost every meal together," the young man announced with a hint of pride, feeling he could successfully check off that box.

His companion looked pleased and added, "Alone?"

"Well, no," Briar admitted ruefully. Honesty kicked his conscious a bit, and he added, "And I suppose not almost every meal either. The breakfast and the evening meal, yes, but Daja usually joins us and so does Sandry or our teachers at times. We'll usually stop in to see each other through the day, as our work allows, but sometimes, it is only for a few moments."

Valden looked less pleased, but he continued gamely. "I see. Have you planned anything special for her recently? Taken care of a task that would usually be hers? Brought her tea or a favored treat when she least expects it? Whisked her away on a spur of the moment adventure?"

"We went to the beach for the day." The answer was quick, and Briar felt some relief at that. "It was during our week alone, and we had nothing planned for the day."

"That's good," his companion said as though encouraging a slow student. "What else?"

"That's it." The young man began to feel rather like that slow student, and one who was not doing well.

The merchant nodded, not judging but not praising either. "Ok. Gifts. What gifts have you given her since you were wed?"

At this Briar had to scramble mentally until he hit one particular event. "Uh...a flower."

"A flower?" Valden looked pleased again, but more guarded this time as though unwilling to get his hopes up too far. "Flowers are good. Each day? Each week?"

"No, a flower. Once." The merchant didn't reply to that, only giving him a long, measuring look. Briar finally couldn't take it and said, "You don't think I'm 'tending' her well." And in all honesty, he agreed with the man. He hadn't, since it had begun, wooed Tris even once. He'd flirted and teased and touched her. A lot. In short, he'd treated her like a pretty bit, and that cut to the core.

The merchant shrugged, and said, "I think you are young and still have things to learn, especially about women. You don't want my advice on your intimacy? Very well. You will listen to this, though. I think we can both agree you need some help."

"Fair enough," he said tightly, lacing his fingers together on the table. It was hard to argue that he _did_ know how to tend a woman, he simply hadn't because the marriage wasn't real. Still, he should have not neglected this part of the relationship if he was trying to convince the merchant it was real. He would have to 'take his lumps' as it were, listen to the advice, and perhaps act on one or two pieces of it. Surely, it couldn't be too bad.

Valden rose to his feet briskly, dropping some coins on the table for their drinks and straightening his clothes. "Good. Lesson one: Gift giving. I hope you brought your purse because we're going shopping."

"What for?" Briar asked as he stood as well, patting his pocket with his coins thoughtfully. It was full enough, he hoped.

For an old man, the merchant moved with a spry step and said over his shoulder as they left, "You've been married nearly a month and the only thing you've done is give her a flower and take her to the beach. You'd best step smart, or you'll find her bedroom door closed to you at night. And the quickest way to remedy that is with a gift."

-090-

"Tris?"

The young woman blinked back to the present, finding her mother touching her lightly on the hand with an amused expression. "Amazing how blind we can been when young," Mistress Chandler said as the clock began to chime. "Your father and I were much the same way…but that is for another time. We'd best be getting back before the men begin to worry."

Tris mumbled something close to an agreement, her mother sweeping them and their things up before shooing them out the door. In a trice, they were back on Cheesemen street, Tris left at her front door with the promise that their talk would be resumed, later.

Briar had not returned from his talk, much to his wife's relief, and she avoided all others as she made her way upstairs and settled in her meditation circle. The effect of closing herself in was almost immediate, everything on the outside seemed a little bit less pressing but the inner turmoil was magnified a thousand fold.

Could it be possible? Could she really…?

The thought was quickly shut down, for coming even close to admitting it might be possible seemed as though it would be set it in stone until the end of time. Still, a serious amount of soul-searching needed to be done, and she intended to have the matter settled as soon as possible.

-090-

Valden led the way towards the market. Briar was only half paying attention as Valden went on in a jovial tone about his usual gifts for Darra. His mind was wrestling with two sides of an argument, and the only one losing was him. On one hand, the marriage wasn't real, and Tris wouldn't necessarily expect him to be wooing or tending her on a regular basis. On the other, he had never been so neglectful of any girl he'd courted, even in jest. After two months, whether or not he was tumbling them, there would have been multiple gifts, at least two private moments together for a meal or a treat if he could arrange it, an entire range of special compliments... And what was Tris going to tell her mother? The facts of their 'pillow-times' together, yes. But even with what she'd read in books, she'd never been properly courted. What if she asked about their favorite places to go or things to do together? Would she be convincing, when they hadn't actually done any of it? At least with the pillow-times, Rosethorn had coached her through it...

"So how about something like this?"

Briar was brought abruptly back to the present, finding himself in an unfamiliar shop with his father-in-law holding something up for inspection. It took a moment to realize it was meant to be a garment, for a woman he hoped. The fabric that was almost opaque, with frilly lace along the edges and straps that he couldn't quite figure out at first glance. His first thought was Tris would never wear that. His second was, _but what if she did?_

Valden was quite pleased with himself. First, the look on Briar's face had told him enough. It was good to know your son-in-law had a healthy appreciation for his wife. And if the lad wasn't in the midst of a daydream involving this sheer bit and a certain curly-haired redhead, Valden had entirely forgotten what it was like to be young.

"N-no," Briar said when he finally snapped back to himself. "Not a good idea."

"Really?" the merchant asked as he looked over the item again himself. Everything seemed to be in order as far as he could see. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Briar's voice firmed as he thought of ice and cold and _lightning_. "Tris isn't...she doesn't care for this...stuff." A slow gulp helped clear his throat. "She's too practical."

"Practical. Well, they do have other options..."

"And," the mage interjected desperately, "she prefers to shop for her...under garments herself. She made that very clear."

Valden had to admit there were things Darra prefered as well. A set back, then, but not a major one. "Ah, very well then. Let us move on."

The next shop Briar was taken to was one he did recognize, and he smirked a bit as they approached the counter. "Hello, Master Shubert," he said before the merchant could open his mouth. "How are Molly and the kids?"

The squarely built man behind the counter lit up as he smoothed his straining vest with one hand. "Well, Master Moss! What a surprise. My wife and children are well. And who have you brought to visit me today?"

"This is Master Chandler," Briar replied. He tried not to sound too smug as he added, "And actually he brought me. Seems to think I need a lesson in buying perfume for women."

Master Shubert guffawed loudly, pressing both hands to his belly as he did. People did not buy from him for his personality, but given how well he maintained his stocks that didn't matter. "Buy it? Why would you buy anything when half my best perfume comes from you?"

Valden couldn't hide his surprise. "You make perfume?"

"It's a side hobby, but a profitable one," his son-in-law laughed lightly. "And only plant based ones, mind, I don't do anything else."

"My wife has been asking for weeks when you're bringing more rose oil in," Master Schubert wheezed as he wiped a tear from his eye. "Oh, excuse me, teach you to buy perfume..." He went off on another round of chortles, but this one more contained. His vest didn't seem as much in danger of bursting as before.

Briar smiled back and, after a mental check of his stocks, nodded. "Then, I'll have some brought to you in a few days. Just enough for her, mind. I won't have an order's worth ready for weeks yet."

The square man smiled brightly, white teeth flashing brilliantly against his dark beard. "I'll still take it. A happy wife makes for a happy life, Master Moss."

"So they keep telling me, Master Schubert." A short farewell and a few steps found the pair back in the street, pausing in at a corner out of the flow of traffic.

"You never said you made perfume." Valden's voice was almost accusatory. Briar shrugged apologetically.

"You never asked. It's a side product of the medicines I make. All the plants come from my own gardens, and anything not used to make medicine I find other uses for. Some, I use to make perfume. And since its lucrative, I bred the flowers to be even more potent. So a little goes a long way. Tris' favorite is violets, and I give her a bottle for her birthday and midwinter every year. As it is, I think she has two or three unused bottles on her shelf, so I don't give it to her more often."

It was hard to be upset in the face of facts, and the merchant settled for, "Oh. Well...good. We'll move on then."

Briar stopped him with an arm. "Just out of curiousity, where? It might save time."

The reply was prompt and confident. "Chocolatier."

The response to the reply was equally prompt and confident. "No, she's sensitive about her weight. It's because of her magic, and it's complicated."

Valden frowned and tapped one finger on his chin. "Then a bakery or confectioner's shop?"

"Also out," his companion said with a shake of his head. That wasn't _entirely_ true, Tris did like a few specific items. She was also very particular about how often she allowed herself those treats, and he couldn't recall the schedule well enough to risk picking the wrong item.

The merchant nodded, and added, "And of course any flowers-"

"It would be stupid to buy what I can do better," Briar cut in blandly. It wasn't bragging, if it was true.

"I agree." Which surprised the plant mage, but he didn't argue. "I would suggest clothes...?" There was hope in the merchant's voice as he left the question open-ended. Briar's frown quickly cut it short.

"She doesn't mind receiving those, but Sandry would kill me if I asked someone other than her to make them. It could be arranged, but it would take time."

The merchant had to admit, family ties were difficult at times. Being a mage probably just made it more so. "And she has many duties of her own, advising the Duke."

"Precisely."

Valden offered his last suggestion on his list of usual gifts. "Jewelry?"

Briar actually laughed aloud. "The only things she will wear are her medallion and the marriage collar. Her student made her a glass bead necklace, she uses it as a bookmark more often than not." The ex-thief then rolled his eyes and added, "And then there's Daja. She would have been offended about the collar if it hadn't been mostly glass. If I'm picking out something involving metal craft, it will need to include her."

Valden looked almost lost. "Then what _does_ she like?"

The answer hit Briar as he scanned the crowded streets, spotting a familiar sight in a window across the way.

"Books."

-090-

Unfortunately, the digging required took a great deal more time than Tris had originally planned. And what decision had she reached, while searching the innermost nooks and crannies of herself?

That she had been reading far too many romance novels, of course, and that, in real life, the prince never married the kitchen maid, or the thief to the merchant. Briar was dear to her and always would be, but it would be best if she kept her head on straight for this was only a play put on for the satisfaction of her family and eventually it would end. She would no longer be cosseted and pampered like she was someone's princess, and the last thing she needed was to get used to it to the point that she missed it when it was gone again for she doubted it would happen again for a long time, if ever.

But now she had another conundrum.

Briar had been nothing if not diligent and committed in playing her doting husband in so far as she could tell. Which was the problem. He was just too good at pretending, and she was letting herself accept something that wasn't real. Asking him to stop or back off seemed silly, first, because she didn't want to admit she had been foolish enough to believe such a blatant lie. Second, they needed to continue to convince her parents. If he stopped the devoted act, or even just seemed to withdraw some, it could draw unwanted attention to their fake relationship. Which meant she couldn't withdraw either. Not without a plausible reason, and each one she came up with seemed more ridiculous than the last.

A feigned sickness? No. An injury? Even worse. Pregnancy? Oh yes, she thought to herself in disgust. They'll only be back in nine months to see their new grandchild. Imagine their surprise when one doesn't show up. Idiot.

Scrapping that plan, she decided on another course of action. Clearly, this was all in her mind, and if she sorted her mind properly, then, it shouldn't be a problem anymore.

It sounded logical, so Tris got to work.

-090-

"There you are, dear. I've been wondering where you were."

Valden sat beside his wife at the table, listening as the waiter rattled off the days' bill of fare before ordering. He waited until his drink was brought before replying.

"I have had a most informative meeting with our new son-in-law," he said as he took a careful sip. "How was your talk with Trisana?"

"It was most informative, as well. She is very like you, dry of humor and sharp of tongue. But I sense, also like you, that she has hidden depths of love and...passion. I believe she also genuinely cares for her husband. And that she enjoys his attentions, which is all to the good. They were, apparently, quite close as children and didn't realize what that might mean until much later in life. Does that remind you of anyone?"

"I wasn't that slow," Valden grumbled, but he smiled nonetheless. "I always knew you were beautiful; I just thought there was no way you'd marry the third son of some jumped-up merchant."

"Not so jumped-up now. And you haven't done so badly for being the third son." She kept her face innocent as she spoke; her eyes sparkled with laughter.

"Head of the family is doing 'not so badly' eh?" Valden said gruffly, pretending offense.

Darra did laugh at that, and his smile in return was all the sweeter for it. "But back to important matters. What did you discover about Briar?"

Valden folded his hands on the table, thinking for a moment before he answered his wife. "For a young man, he is surprisingly certain about what he wants. He needs some schooling at being a husband, but all young men do. I went shopping with him for a gift for our daughter. He ended up buying a book, a tea set and a glass pen. It seems she either doesn't appreciate most feminine things or he can do better with his own crafting than purchasing it from someone else. Did you know he makes perfume?"

The merchant's wife perked up with interest. "Does he?"

Her husband's smile was knowing, and he had a feeling Tris was going to be asked what sorts of scents her husband dabbled in. "Yes. Apparently, violets are her favorite, and he makes a regular gift of it to her already."

"Well, that's promising."

"Yes, I thought so."

Darra's grin took on a decidedly wicked cast as she asked in a low voice, "Did you take him to look at any feminine apparel."

His frown did not please her in the least. "Yes, but apparently, our daughter prefers to purchase her own. And it is, as he described, very practical."

"Oh dear. That will not do." Her frown matched his as she tapped her chin, a habit she had picked up from him long ago. "I will have to give that some thought."

That made Valden smile, knowing that when she put her mind to a problem it rarely stayed unsolved. "I imagined you would say something like that."

She waved a hand, setting it aside for the time being. "What else did you discover?"

"That he was in the war. He didn't say how, but at some point, he got mixed up in the fighting. And it most definitely scarred him." He held up a hand as Darra started to speak, indicating there was more. "He's also been to a soul healer because our daughter made him go. So that worry, at least, is laid to rest and makes me prouder still of her."

"She is quite remarkable, isn't she?" The smile that came with those words warmed the merchant's heart, and he laid a hand over hers as he replied.

"Yes, and if for no other reason than knowing that, I am thankful we made this trip."

Darra considered her husband for a time, then said softly, "I have to say, dear, I am almost convinced. The boy needs some tutoring, but you can start that. Your birthday is in four weeks, and hers is two weeks after that. I say, if nothing occurs in that moon and a half, then we can leave secure in the knowledge of her being where she belongs and with whom she belongs."

Valden's smile grew, relieved that once again he and his wife had reached the same conclusion in their search. "I couldn't agree more, my dear."

-090-

Several hours later, Briar was sitting outside the circle, tending a shakkan with a covered plate of leftovers beside him. He had actually started to enjoy himself with Master Chandler, searching through the stacks of leather and linen bound volumes in the brightly lit shop. When he had settled on a volume of poetry by someone they both liked (not that he would ever admit to liking poetry to anyone but Tris), Valden had perked up. After inquiring whether Tris liked any particular kind and being told in turn the only kind she couldn't stand was that filled with angst, the merchant had gone to the shopkeeper and asked after something in a low voice. The shopkeeper had smiled knowingly and retrieved a slim leather bound book the size of his hand from under the counter. The merchant insisted it would be well received; it was one of his wife's favorites, and Briar had given in with a shrug.

The books had given him a second idea, though, and from there they went to a stall that sold specialized ceramics. There, he found a small pot and cup set Tris had been considering buying once, the outside dyed a deep blue with grey birds in flight on the sides. She had decided instead to indulge in something for Glaki. And that was always the way of it, wasn't it, he had mused as he handed over the coin and watched them wrap it up. Tris would buy for others before herself every single time. He should have bought the tea set then; it wasn't expensive, and he'd had the coin to spend. But he'd been too busy looking at miniature pots for a display he was creating for a customer.

The road home brought them by the few glassmakers in town, and Briar instinctively veered towards one stall in particular.

"She's fond of glasswork?" His father-in-law asked as he watched the young man search carefully through the display.

"Very." Briar's tone was decisive and certain. Valden approved, this was a man who had studied his wife and knew what he was doing. "Her journeyman's standing in it has given her a real appreciation for fine work."

The offerings were widely varied. Bowls, cups, vases. Plates, pitchers and saucers. It was in a small corner, though, that he found it. Pens.

Each was unique and hand-pulled into the desired fanciful shape. Each was light in the hand, and beautiful to look at. Briar chose a green and grey spiral, purchasing it with a steel nib and small bottle of dark blue ink. She had nibs and ink, but better to make it a complete set than not.

"Going for something in particular tonight, are we?" Valden asked as he eyed the bundle under Briar's arm.

The ex-thief shrugged, trying to hide the blush that rose with the man's knowing smile. "Only a happy wife."

Valden's smile only grew more smug. "Then don't give them to her all at once. Spread it out over a couple of days or weeks; you will get better results that way." The wink that followed was almost enough to sink Briar completely, but he manfully fought off the flush and asked in an almost convincingly carefree voice.

"And which gift should I give first, then?"

"The books. I think you will both enjoy them a great deal."

That was enough to pique Briar's interest, and he eyed the bundle under his arm speculatively. He had wondered about the small, plain leather-bound volume but had decided not to insist on looking at it at the time. Now, it was wrapped, and he didn't want to open it before Tris. He'd never get it bound up so neatly again, and she'd know he'd opened it before her. Deciding it was likely nothing of any real importance, he bid the merchant farewell as he reached his street and headed home.

Everything but the books were left in his work room, stashed away to be given another time. Upstairs he went, taking the stairs two at a time as he looked for his wife. She was there, in her circle meditating, and he left the wrapped gifts where she would find them if she came out of it soon. Back downstairs he had gone, to finish some projects of his own and eventually to eat supper. When Tris didn't, he asked the cook to prepare a tray and took it up with him after having his fill.

Which is why he now found himself seated outside her circle, with the tray and shakkan on hand, waiting for her to emerge.

When his wife finally did so, she seemed a bit worn but calm as she gratefully accepted the tray and tucked in hungrily.

"Are you alright?" he asked, keeping his tone light.

"I think so," she replied with a heavy sigh. "Talking with my mother was just more difficult than I imagined. It…raised some questions I wasn't prepared to deal with."

Briar, in his turn, wasn't sure what to say to that. He finally settled for, "Oh. And…you've worked it out?"

The hesitation was so slight, Briar thought for a moment he might have imagined it. "…I think so, yes."

"Good," her husband replied almost too quickly. As an afterthought he added, "I am here, if you need to talk…"

"No, that won't be necessary." She gave him a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes and that bothered him. Still, it wasn't his business, and he had no right to pry into it.

"Right."

"How did your talk go?" she asked as she began to prepare her tea, pouring from the still-warm kettle.

His tone turned light, and he grinned crookedly. "Fine, it was fine. I was given a lecture on how to spoil a wife, that's all. Probably pretty like compared to what you did. Oh, and I got you this." The wrapped packages were held out, and she took them speculatively. "Your father picked out the small one, actually, said it's a favorite of your mother. Apparently, she likes books too."

She wasn't sure what to say to that, so she settled with, "Oh. Thank you."

Silence stretched between them, and finally Briar stood and put his shakkan back on its shelf. "I'm gonna change for bed," he announced as he picked up his clothes from their chair in the corner. "Yell if you need something."

"I will," she promised, turning her full attention to the meal she was halfway through. Tris wasted no time in polishing off the plate, wiping her mouth before trading places in the bathroom to ready herself as well.

She wasn't actually sleepy, though, and, for the first time since their marriage, sat up with the lamp on and a book in her lap. She had decided to go with the smaller volume, Briar's gift was thoughtful and appreciated, but she had already read that one. Still, she didn't own it and would save it for another time. There was no title on the outside of the other book, just a pattern of roses and lilies stamped in the fine grained leather.

Carefully, she opened it as Briar burrowed into the covers next to her, invitingly placing his head near her hands. "Do you need both of those to read?" he asked almost pleadingly.

 _I think you're the spoiled one, not me_ , she replied, as she absently twined one hand through his black curls. She told herself she was happy she could do something that made him happy as warm contentment radiated across the bond but nothing more. It was too bad it wasn't very convincing.

 _...maybe_.

The first poem was a flowery yearning for the writer's true love to return to him or her. The genders were kept vague, but Tris couldn't tell if it was on purpose or simply a by product of the writing style. Still, it wasn't particularly clever or interesting, and her mind began to wander even as she scanned to the bottom of the page. If this was what the book was comprised of, she was disappointed in her mother.

She skipped over the next few pages, finally settling on one titled 'Tending His Garden.' It wasn't particularly brilliant either, and she was only giving it half her mind when something about the verse and rhyme struck her. She circled back to the start, reading more carefully and paying attention to all the possible uses of each word. She couldn't be certain, but it seemed to be hinting at something entirely unrelated to gardening at all.

With a sneaking suspicion, the weather-witch skipped even further ahead, somewhere around the middle of the book and stopped there to read. The innuendo was no longer hidden, and she had to admit cleverly used even if it was more than a little naughty. Her hand in Briar's hair went still when the poem referenced 'sweeping fingers through lover's curls'. She had a feeling they were not referring to someone's head, and she began to blush furiously.

Her mother's favorite book was a collection of erotic poetry. And if the progression so far were the norm, then it would only get more explicit the farther she went. Her mind told her she should put it aside immediately, but curiosity said perhaps she could take just a peek? Simply to gauge how bad it was, of course. Just scan a few lines and be done. The thought gave birth to the deed, and her fingers nimbly sorted through towards the end.

Explicit wasn't the word.

Neither was raunchy, bawdy, risque or smutty. Uncompromising? Perhaps. Lascivious? Closer. Libidinous? Salacious? Prurient? Her mind continued to babble on in the background about words and their meaning as her eyes continued to roam the page. She never even noticed when Briar sat up beside her.

He had been almost asleep, happily drifting away with the feeling of his head being scratched. No, he wasn't a cat, but it still was a wonderful thing, head scratches. The stopping of said head scratches were what had first caught his attention.

 _Tris?_

The lack of response was only somewhat alarming. She may have been more tired than she realized and fallen asleep over her book. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, for either of them. When he sat up, though, her eyes were open and her face stained a particularly attractive shade of pink.

"Tris?"

This time the lack of response was alarming, and he reached over to turn her head towards him with gentle hands. Her eyes were wide as they met his and somewhat glazed over. When they snapped into focus, she squeaked and looked away, holding the book tightly to her suddenly heaving chest.

"Are you alright?" he asked, now truly concerned.

"Yes." Her voice was breathless and a little unsteady. "I'm...I'm fine, just..." Her eyes wandered down to the book, then snapped abruptly up again. He recognized it was the one her father had chosen. Before she could stop him, he had snagged it from her hands and was scanning the page she had been reading only moments before.

"Well now," he said as his brows rose, "I'd never thought of doing _that_..."

" _Briar!_ "

He didn't resist when she took it from him, grinning broadly at her still flushed face. "What? I doubt there's anything in there that's going to embarrass _me_."

Her flush deepened, and he couldn't believe he'd never noticed how pretty it was before. And that it ran below the high collar of her nightgown. Hm. "Briar," she said carefully. "What exactly did he say about this book?"

"That it's a favorite of your mother's. And that it would be well received," he said promptly, coming back to the topic at hand. "And that we would both...oh..." He felt himself growing red then, looking away as he scratched his neck. "Ah."

"And this came recommended _by my parents_." Tris' voice went up an octave, hitting a note Briar hadn't known was in her range. He was also a little too absorbed in following her line of reasoning to notice.

"Yes. Yes, it did. Which probably means..."

"They use it." The book dropped from Tris' fingers as a feeling of disgust washed away the tingling excitement and embarrassment of moments before. Mostly.

Briar sat there silently for a moment, his lips pressed tightly together. "That," he finally said in a flat voice. "Might be the biggest mood killer ever, sexual assistance from your parents. I'm not sure I'd want to now, even if we were...you know..."

That was simply too much for the weather witch. "I'm going to burn it," she declared, reaching for a lightning braid.

"No!" Briar seized the volume from her lap, then stammered, "I mean, you shouldn't destroy it yet because she'll probably ask about it. And you should at least read the front part, it's not as...bad right?" The nod he received was cautious but unconvinced. "So you can tell her about what you thought. And...you never know, when this is all over and done you might find a reason to keep it around. Besides, I thought you said a book should never be destroyed."

"That was before this." She pointed at the volume as though afraid to actually touch it. "I mean, I've read some...comprehensive things on sex before. And some rather explicit novels. But this...this is...I don't even have words for what this is!"

"What it is is a gift," he said, scooting off the bed in one fluid motion. "One you can't be rid of yet, at any rate. I'll stick it in here, where it will be safe and can be produced if necessary. Until then, no one should bother it there." The drawer he pulled out was for his stockings, and he shoved it deeply under the tangled mounds. "There, better?"

"I don't think even being able to forget would make it better," she grumbled, putting her hand down and folding her arms over her chest.

"Then perhaps, it's a good thing it's not an option." He chuckled and climbed back into bed beside her. "Good night, Coppercurls." He kissed her on the forehead and laid back down, and she joined him a moment later as she snuffed out the lamp and set her spectacles aside.

"Goodnight," she whispered back, not resisting as he curled up behind her and slung an arm around her middle. But it wasn't the same as before. She was more aware of herself, more aware of him, and instinctively, knew there was something on the edges of thought that she did not want to follow right now. Or at least, that's what she told herself. She reminded herself again that it was only for show. It was not real, and it would not last forever.

And as her eyes closed, thoughts drifting off as she slowly relaxed into sleep, a small voice deep inside whispered: _But I wish it would._

-090-

Authors Notes:

First and foremost, a huge congratulations to FatelessWanderer for making it through the end of school flurry of grading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter, secure in the knowledge of a job well done and free to do what you want for a few months of rest. You've earned it!

Second, to my Beta An Impatient Pierce Fan, an enormously huge thanks. She's put up with me for years, guys, and does a fantastically good job at cleaning up my frequent mistakes and story errors. If you don't have a Beta this good, I feel sorry for you, because no one catches all of their own mistakes. Simply doesn't happen. And if you try and steal mine I will consider this an act of war and respond accordingly.

Third, as always, the bargain still stands! You guys came closer this month due to someone taking me up on the 'catch up' offer, 8 of the 20 reviews needed for the next chapter to arrive early was achieved. This month's required number is still 20, so remember. 20 original reviews from today on, even of previous chapters if you haven't reviewed them before, and the next chapter will be posted immediately, no less than 12 hours after the 20th review is achieved.

Fourth, also as always (or since the last chapter at least), I am not Tamora Pierce and do not have any rights to her characters or plots. I make no profit from the writing of this story, and is purely for mine (and your) enjoyment for free. Characters and plots not originally associated with the Circle of Magic series are mine, and please ask before you borrow. It's only polite.

Fifth, I hope you enjoyed the chapter! Please review, it's like giving a hug but less creepy with strangers.

Until next time,

~CB~


	9. Chapter 8

-090-

Briar had risen at dawn and worked quickly through the tasks he needed to complete. It was his day to visit Master Brunstwort, and he had a feeling he needed it this week. The conversations and happenings of the last several days had begun to weigh heavily on his mind, as had something else. His usual course of action, ask Tris or one of the other girls, did not seem wise given the general current of his thoughts. So he bided his time and worked as quickly as he could.

He stopped by Tris' workroom as before, mentioning he would be back before dinner, and leaving for the soulhealer's house. It was, apparently, a light day, for no sooner had he settled in his seat than the master himself entered the room, leather book in hand and a smile on his face.

"Briar," he said as he clasped hands with the mage. "You're looking well. Marriage agrees with you, I think."

"There are advantages I had not considered before," the mage admitted as he settled back in his seat and watched the bald man set out his inkpot and pen. "Do you know, when you aren't married the maids aren't quite as careful with your clothes? Oh, they're not careless, but the folding isn't quite as precise. The attempts to remove stains not quite as diligent. A bachelor can afford to appear a bit sloppy, it seems. A married man cannot."

"You've always been a bit vain, haven't you?" the old man said jovially, a teasing grin on his face.

"With a face as pretty as mine, who wouldn't be?" Briar replied with mocking severity.

"Very well, young popinjay," Master Brunstwort chortled as he finished setting up and got his book to the right page. "Last time we spoke, we discussed a few interesting things. First, however, have you had anymore dreams?"

"None," Briar admitted with a shrug. "But I've also either been working very hard to keep ahead of the gardens heading into the summer or dancing on eggshells with Tris' parents. Either tends to leave you exhausted by the end of the day." And exhaustion was always a good way to guarantee a decent sleep.

"They've arrived?" the soulhealer asked, leaning forward with interest.

"They did. It's been...rather tense." The young man shrugged, struggling to put his tangled thoughts into words. Finally, he admitted sourly, "They aren't what I expected, or what anyone of us expected, I think. He's stern, short-tempered, and has a tongue like a rasp. He's also honest and very down-to-earth. She is witty and clever and cutting at times. She is also loyal and very intelligent." The rest came out even more slowly, each word dragging itself along with painful reluctance. "And Tris...I can see so much of her in them. Of them in her. She has the same smile as her father, the same wit as her mother. His stubbornness and bluntness. Her intelligence and her cooking skills as well from the sounds of it."

"In other words, they are people," his soulhealer said calmly as he made a notation in his book. "Made of both good and bad and capable of both good and bad."

"Yeah, but they've done a lot of bad, so it's hard to accept that there might be good in them," Briar replied grudgingly. "And then to get called out by her father..." Master Brunstwort didn't ask; he just raised an eyebrow and waited. Eventually, the plant mage explained about being scolded for his lack of care for his wife.

"Really, they ignored her existence for almost a decade," the mage grumbled afterwards. "I don't see where _he_ has a right to tell me I'm not treating her well...even if he is right, if this were a real relationship I would probably be on my way to getting the boot. But it's not, so it doesn't matter, and him pointing it out just..."

Master Brunstwort didn't reply, merely waited as he made another notation in his book.

"Besides," Briar added after a few moments into the tense silence. "I, at least, showed him what's what when he asked why I chose Tris."

"Oh?" The healer's tone was only mildly interested, but it was all the encouragement Briar needed. "What did you tell him?"

"That she was twice the woman of any of the pretty bits I had been with before." There was heat behind the words; then, he added softly, "Which is true. I just didn't realize it until he asked me why."

"How is that?" the older man encouraged gently. "What makes her...more?"

"She's...real." Briar hesitated, trying to piece together the words in his head that refused to stay still long enough for him to examine them. It had absolutely nothing to do with an uncomfortable potential truth he was trying to ignore. "She's...she's the same with you every day, all day. She is exactly who she appears to be. She is selfless. She is kind and honest and cares about people, sometimes whether or not they want her to. She cares about me." Looking down at his hands. "And I think I finally understand what you were trying to tell me last year, when I was skipping from girl to girl."

The soulhealer looked up from his notes, watching the young man carefully as he clarified, "About how there is more to a relationship than how well you fit together in a bed?"

"Yes." Briar buried his head in his hands, pressing his palms into his eyes as he tried to make sense of the knotted emotions inside. "She's...I'm...we're...I don't know."

"You don't know what?"

"What to do, I guess," the ex-thief sighed as he looked up helplessly. "I...you are right. This is better. Or this kind of relationship, that we're _pretending_ to have, it's better for me. I'm sleeping at night, even without the sex. Focusing on her is getting the focus off me, and when I'm not focusing on me I'm happier. I'm less...discontent or worried or paranoid about stupid things. And even the times I've gotten angry, I haven't lost it like I was. My hold on it still isn't great, but I don't completely lose control. I've always been able to talk to her about anything, but now I have more time to. Time before we go to sleep or time when we wake up in the morning. Or even just during the day, I seem to see more of her now. She's just...there, and there's something about that reassurance of just knowing she's going to be there... I just didn't put it together until Valden Chandler asked me why I had chosen Tris over all the 'pretty bits' I had been seeing, and it made me so angry that he even had to ask. How could he not see the difference? It's right there under his nose!" The exclamation was punctuated with thrust out arms that abruptly dropped to the mage's lap as he sighed.

"Then I got mad at me because that had been me. I had been the one not seeing the difference, picking those other girls for years. And now that I see it...I don't know what to do."

Master Brunstwort stayed quiet as he watched the troubled young man, tapping his fingers gently on the page in front of him in his small, leather book. "Let's go back to something you mentioned," he said after a time when nothing more can forth, leaning forward slightly. "You've been angry recently? Let's discuss those instances and see where they lead."

Briar shrugged. He couldn't see the connection, but the soulhealer had done this before. It usually looped back around by the end. "It's happened a few times," he admitted with a grimace as he recalled them all. "The first time was when her parents showed up unexpectedly at our house." He described the incident; the words and the feelings. "He was demanding to see her," the young man growled. "Like he _owned_ her. She wasn't his, hadn't been for years. And even if she had, she's nothing a thing she's a _person_. He didn't have the right."

"So you protected her," the soulhealer said with a slight smile.

"Of course! She's my mate, my s-...wife." Briar coughed to cover his stumble, adding quickly. "Everyone helped, though. It wasn't just me."

Master Brunstwort nodded sagely "And the next time?"

"At lunch with her parents. Her father said he wasn't sure I was _fit_ to marry a Chandler," growling the words again. "Like they have _any_ right...anyways, they were trying to provoke me. Tris, at least, saw that, and I kept my mouth shut after she pointed it out."

"Good, good," the older man said, his approval clear in his voice. "And we discussed him asking why. Were there any other incidents?"

"In that same conversation about 'why Tris', he asked about Gyongxe. I think he asked the questions the way he did on purpose, though, to see what my reaction would be." The young man couldn't help the flush that crept up his face as he admitted, "I lost hold of my anger for a moment. I'm not proud of that. He started it, but I still should have known better."

"What was he doing that made you so angry?"

"Just being a stupid merchant, caring more about profits than people." Briar waved a dismissive hand, adding, "I don't think he meant it, really. He wanted to see if I had been there, and if I had been...hurt. He probably wasn't sure I'd be honest, if I wasn't tricked into betraying myself. He also wanted to know if I was getting help."

"Which you are."

"Yes, and I told him that." Again, Briar's sense of honesty kicked in, regardless of what it cost him. He still spoke the words in a biting tone. "I suppose, if you are going to pretend you are a decent human being, checking to be certain your daughter's new husband isn't a broken husk of a man would be a good idea."

"Yes, it probably would be. How does Tris feel about her parents, having met them now?"

Briar blinked in surprise at the shift in topic. "Oh, well...I don't really know actually." He cleared his throat before going on. "We...we're both avoiding the topic, I think."

"Well, I do not think that is healthy in the least and could cause problems. If you think simply bringing it up will not work, then wait for an opportunity. One will come, and when it does, I think you need to discuss it thoroughly between yourselves. Was there another time your anger...?"

"Then there was a stupid bleater at Hulda's House." Briar's description was short and to the point, but even remembering it made his hands ball into fists. "I wanted to hit him so bad..."

"But you didn't." The soulhealer's gaze sharpened, and the young man quickly shook his head.

"No. I walked away." Stalked was closer to the truth, but the distinction didn't much matter in this context. "I wasn't fit to be around for hours, though. Daja took the brunt of it before she left me alone."

Master Brunstwort's brows rose slightly. "Not Tris?"

"No, she wasn't there. That made it worse for some reason. Like, if I had been able to talk to her, maybe, it wouldn't have been so terrible. By the time I saw her the next day, I was mostly over it."

"Ah."

"That is a lot of times for me to lose my temper in a week or so," Briar admitted as he thought back over the events of the last few days. "I haven't been that bad in a while. Not since the beginning."

"Yes, but it has been mostly defensive anger," Master Brunstwort pointed out. "And as you know, once your defenses are up, it is harder to react without resorting to them. That is not an excuse to not try to control your anger, but you do not need to be too harsh with yourself. Given your progress and how this week has gone, I think you have done well to have kept your temper as well as you have."

"Oh." It wasn't quite a compliment or complete justification of his actions, but it did lift some of the guilt from Briar's shoulders. His mind immediately brought a thought to the fore, and when the older man continued to write silently in his book, he finally asked, "So...what does my anger have to do with...whatever is going on in my head about Tris?"

"Well, I think you are perhaps bit more protective of her than you would be normally," Master Brunstwort said as he wrote down something else in his small leather book. "Which is contributing to your anger. Protectiveness is generally attributed to caring about someone. Being concerned for their well-being (whether physical or not) out of a desire to keep them safe."

Briar's grin turned self-conscious as he sighed. "Tris probably doesn't need my help protecting herself. She's downright fierce, when she wants to be."

"Maybe, but that does not change your desire to help," his companion pointed out lightly. "And oftentimes, we find ourselves defending the ones who would seem to need it the least."

"So...is that...normal?" The young man laced his fingers together, staring at the mage with a kind of quiet desperation.

"Very," the bald man agreed as he looked up from his book. "In fact, I would say even expected."

"And...everything else...?"

"Normal and also expected," the older man intoned promptly.

Briar paused, then nodded hesitantly. "Ok, but...what do I do about it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Tris is my _sister._ " The words were spoken in a half-desperate plea.

"No, she isn't," the master replied calmly. "Not in any way that would make this concerning. You have shared a sibling-like bond for years, and I would even go so far as to say your magical bond willy likely transcend all others for the duration of your life. But in the most realistic, practical sense of the word you are no more siblings with Tris than you and I are. You do not share one or both of your parents; you are not even able to say you were raised together as siblings from birth. You met as older children, spent some three or four years together, then went your separate ways for another three or four years. In the course of your entire life, you have only been together for less than half of it. The ties that bind you and her together are very strong, but they are not, inherently, that of siblings."

"I don't understand." Briar spoke quickly, his eyes dropping to the floor as his arms crossed over his chest. Ah, the soulhealer thought as he watched the walls come up in the young man's face. He had not seen a reaction like this in awhile, and there was only one way to respond.

"I think you do," he said simply, sitting back and rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But we cannot move further on this subject until you are ready to see it with unclouded eyes. As before, it will either come with time and self-reflection, or it will not. I think, given everything that is happening, that you are continuing to make good progress. If the dreams come back in force or something else comes up that you wish to discuss, you know how to reach me. Be sure to discuss Tris' parents and your views on them soon, it may be important for you both. Do you wish to keep our usual once a moon visit schedule or...?"

"I'll set it for a moon," Briar agreed absently. "Hopefully, they'll be gone, and life can get back to normal." He didn't need to say who 'they' were. He was also glad he kept the bit about seeing Tris undress accidentally to himself because he has a feeling Master Brunstwort wouldn't have let him off so easily, otherwise. Even just the briefest memory was still enough to make his throat (and other things) tighten uncomfortably.

The soulhealer just smiled as Briar left, the young man clearly burdened by his thoughts as he forgot to say goodbye. Well, he had things to decide and discover for himself, and Master Brunstwort had found long ago that conclusions one reached one's self were generally more effective than those handed to you. A month, he thought as he glanced back through his notes. Well, their next talk would probably be an interesting one.

Master Brunstwort stroked his chin as he read back over his notes of one Briar Moss, a faint smile playing across his thin lips. The young man had made such remarkable progress over his time in the soul healer's care. And only a very small portion of it had been due to the Master's own gift.

It did not work like the healing done to one's body, which was always difficult to explain. The brain, the physical representative of the mind, could sustain damage and could, under certain circumstances, be healed of that damage. Not always, but sometimes. But the _mind_ , the self within one's body that had no physical form, that could not be made whole with a snap of one's fingers.

He had felt the same despair almost all did when he had first learned that, had first learned of his gift. Most healers saw their patients for a few days. Extreme cases called for moons and on occasion years, but those were not common. It was rare that any patient left Master Brunstwort's care before a year's time had ended. Of course, he was special even among soul healers, for he was one who worked specifically with mages.

It always amazed him that those given the greatest gifts were those who also suffered the most. What was it about possessing the ability to bend the world around them, out of it's natural order, that made mage's minds so delicate? Perhaps, it was not the ability itself, but the mental strain required to control such power that caused the flaws.

But Briar. Young Briar, who had earned his mental wounds so much younger than many he saw. It had been the immediacy at first that had been the problem. His mind needed space from the memories of the war, and Master Brustwort had been able to give it to him. A special warding, placed in his mind, to keep the memories at bay so they could be examined without overwhelming the patient. It was not unusual for him to have to repeat the warding more than once, though it lost effectiveness with each repetition. But Briar had not slacked in his work. The Master would give him tasks, and he would complete them, each time returning with whatever had been required of him the session before. One warding had been sufficient, and by the time it had faded away, the young man had been able to respond to those memories without losing himself.

That was not the end of his work, of course. There had been a few memories the Master had intervened directly with. The death of Evvi, the betrayal of allies, the cruelty of the empire. And that odd 'something more'. Briar had been touched by a deity, perhaps more than one. Master Brunstwort himself did not think much of the gods. They often left those they used broken and did nothing to repay the cost of being used. He could not tell what the using had been, the young man did not recall it, and he would not be able to unless the gods who had interfered allowed it. But that interference had deepened the wounds already there and given birth to memories that the soulhealer was fairly certain had never been. For example, the young man claimed to have spent time in prison, moons perhaps, but could not recall when or where. He was just certain that it was a thing that had happened, and he had created a safe space in his mind to survive it. The soul healer could not undo what the gods had unwittingly done, but he could ease the pain. He could diminish a memory until the memory itself were little more than a dream. That could not be done more than a handful of times, too much intrusion could cause other complications. He had chosen his moments well, and Briar had certainly thrived as a result.

The gifted plant mage was not yet through with his healing. He may not ever be. But the soul healer was proud of his patient, and would continue to be there for him whatever his future may bring.

-090-

Briar walked slowly home, mulling over what Master Brunstwort had said as he tried to make sense of the events of the last few days. So, noticing Tris was...attractive in more ways than the physical sense was (supposedly) healthy and normal. And realizing that he liked this 'kind' of relationship more was also (supposedly) healthy and normal. And Tris (supposedly) wasn't his sister. The ex-thief had never known the man be to wrong but had a strong suspicion that his other sisters would not view it in the same light.

And what about Tris herself? Briar had almost had to beg her to marry him so her parents couldn't carry her off. And she had said more than once that she wasn't looking anymore. She probably noticed Briar being there all the time about as much as she noticed Chime. Oh, he thought she didn't mind the flirting and the cuddling; she might even enjoy it a little. But just because you enjoyed something didn't make it a definite basis for anything more. She wasn't interested in him like that, and besides, she deserved someone better.

For himself, he decided; it had just been too long. Yes, the prospect of a stable relationship was now more tempting than it ever had been before. When the marriage ended, and he was free to dispose of his affections where he wished, he would probably attempt to pursue his women with a more final goal in mind. It might take awhile; he had built up quite the reputation, and he had a feeling the sort of woman he was looking for wouldn't be looking for someone with a past like his. But reputations could be changed, and he could begin to work on that image now. Being a good husband to Tris could give his new image credence, and that would make it easier when he was free once more.

And in the meantime, perhaps, he needed a diversion. Nothing that could make life difficult for them. Even if he did know many discrete possibilities, it not only felt wrong, he had also given his word that he wouldn't. Something less compromising, than. A certain leather-bound volume came to mind, and Briar filed the thought away for another time. It might work.

Because at the end of the day, he wasn't falling in love with Tris, and that was all there was too it.

-090-

The next few days were quiet. Whatever the Chandler's were up to, it must not have had anything to do with them. Directly, anyways.

Tris had decided that first morning to re-apply herself to the glass erosion problem with her rain repellant charms. It had begun with a great deal of study on some new books she had acquired the month before and never gotten around to reading. A full day was spent thus, excluding a late trip to the market where supplies were purchased to be delivered to the house the next day. The evening was spent organizing her notes and preparing the small corner of the forge where her glass crafting materials lay.

At dinner, she ate with Briar and Daja, both of whom had spent the day at work as well, other than Briar's brief foray out in the afternoon. Daja was crafting a special order of new chandeliers for the Guild of Bankers Main Hall. The design was beautiful as well as functional, and she was enjoying the work immensely. Briar had spent the morning the gardens, weeding and pruning and harvesting some of the late spring flowers that he used in his unguents, salves and perfumes.

They discussed various points of craft back and forth, made their plans for the next day and invited Sandry to join them for dinner as well. The stitch-witch immediately agreed that it was exactly what she needed, and the four all went their separate ways to sleep content.

The next day did not go quite so well.

Tris rose early, eating little with her morning tea before getting down to work. She created three separate mixtures for her glass, each tweaked from what she had read on glass magic the day before. All three were set to melt in separate crucibles, and as she monitored the temperatures carefully, they slowly began to meld together into glass. The first melted as she expected, evenly melding togethering into what she needed. The second took a much longer time and seemed to still have lumps in it when she finally decided not to wait any longer. The third went quickest of them all but had an odd blue tinge to it that she didn't quite know what to think of.

As each was ready, she poured it into a set of molds used as the base for her rain-shield charms. There were only nine in each mold; she had made only a small amount of each mixtures as a test, and hopefully, it would give her the answers she sought. As each tray was finished, she set it in her annealer, the temperature kept even by a series of heat spells she had perfected with use, instead of a coal fire. Her method was more effective, and she could monitor the temperature even when not physically present.

Daja, who was working a particularly delicate piece of brass work, had called for Tris' assistance for a moment, and the weather witch had allowed herself to be drawn into her sister's project as she waited for her own to reach the next step in the process. The same spell set that kept the annealer hot also allowed her to sense when the glass was ready to be removed and much to her surprise one of the trays was finished almost as soon as Daja was finished needing her help.

It was too bad, she mused as she set the tray of molds to the side to cool further, that she couldn't figure out a way to make those spells a sellable charm. She imagined any glassmaker would appreciate not having to check and re-check his work, hoping that this time he or she had it right when they pulled it from the oven. And while the heat spells would need to be renewed, they didn't require daily fuel and might even be less expensive to maintain.

Of course, she added to herself, the temperature needs to be tweaked sometimes, and you can't do that if there isn't a way to fiddle with the spell. Which makes it less helpful for non-mages, and a mage will have likely found their own solution to such concerns. A dial, she thought as she allowed her mind to meander farther down the path of possibility. Or a lever. Something you could move to alter the spell. It would need to be several spells, then, working in unison. And each layer would have to respond to tiny increments of movement. Shifting on and off? A different spell for each level, or layers of spells, activating only those needed for the task? It would mean the 'base' spells would need to be renewed more often than the 'top'. Would there be a way to do that without disrupting the entire working? Or would she need to set it up with a magical 'storehouse' that all the spells would draw from as needed? It would be easier to renew that way...

Absently, she jotted down notes about the idea; it might come to nothing, but it never hurt to set the idea aside for a rainy day. Or a sunny one, preferably. They were usually a good deal less interesting.

Taking the still-warm molded charms from their cooling rack, she headed upstairs to her chambers after checking the rest of her spells one last time. They would let her know if something needed her attention here, and it was best to lay the charm while the glass was still a little warm.

Her workroom was used to heavy wardings, and they sprung easily into place as she walked in and closed the door behind her. Everything had been made as indestructible as possible, even her table top covered with a thin layer of melted stone to protect the wood underneath. They had tried metal at first, but that had ended up being a disaster when combined with her lightning, and the stone had been a good project for Evvy. It was as flat as possible and polished mirror bright, reflecting the light from the lamps hazily.

The process of placing the charm was long and tedious. Making a rain shield herself was simple and for a larger group only less so. Setting parameters for a shield when she was not present to control it was the problem. She had long ago solved how to do that; it was now a problem of finding a substance that could hold the powerful charm without eroding the material it was on. Making it any weaker meant it only lasted an hour or two at best, and Tris didn't feel right selling anything that lasted less than a day.

This batch was not a success. Of the nine pendants, only three even accepted the charm and two of them were not at full strength. A set back, then. Tris tried not to let it bother her as she swept the four that had actually shattered aside and tossed the rest in her discard pile. The one that had succeeded she kept, placing it with other items to be sold.

Downstairs she met Daja in the kitchen, the cook preparing her a quick bite to eat. Tris requested the same, and they retreated to the dining room to eat and speak in silence.

 _It didn't go well?_

 _How could you tell?_

 _You didn't thank the cook. You only forget when something is bothering you._

 _Oh no. I'll have to go back..._

 _I think she understands. She's been with us almost three years now._

After that, they kept to unimportant things and were soon going their separate ways again. Both had work waiting for them, and magic could only be kept in stasis for so long. Daja was almost back to her forge when she met Briar coming the other way down the hall, a thundercloud seeming to follow in his wake.

"What's wrong?" she asked at seeing his scowl. The young man frowned further but shook his head slightly.

"Nothin' you can fix," he said as he ground the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I'm sorry, Daj'. Just let me alone, I'll get over it."

The smith almost stopped, but she could tell in the back of her mind that the metal was ready. She needed to get back to it immediately. "Alright," she said brusquely, "You know where to find me if you need me."

"Yeah."

In truth, Briar's day had been going very well. The early morning had been productive; he had gone right into the garden to finish what he had started the day before, and it had gone quickly and well. To his workshop, he'd moved next, checking on the shakkans he had there in various states of shaping and growth. Two pines that were a specialized commision would be ready for transplant by next week, and the willow he was making as a gift for someone else the week after. The commissions were hefty ones, and between the prospect of fattening his purse and giving Rosethorn something special, he was in a very good mood, indeed.

With what needed to be done completed and the majority of the day still ahead, he had decided a bit of fun before diving back into work was in order. Tris was ensconced in her workroom, under several layers of thick protective shields and wouldn't be aware of him or anything else for some time. Daja had gone back to her smithy work and was completely absorbed in it. Which meant he didn't have to worry about her or Daja peeking over his 'shoulder' for once.

Upstairs the ex-thief went, pulling a certain leather-bound volume from his drawer and seating himself in one of the two overstuffed chairs. Mostly, it was from pure curiosity. He knew he hadn't learned or tried everything when it came to pillow games. And from the little he'd seen, he had high hopes that the book would yield several ideas for later. Much later, of course, when he was no longer married and could do as he pleased. Still, just the planning of such adventures would keep him happily occupied for awhile, and it all began here. In the amazingly small and innocent looking book.

Truth be told he didn't mind, after some thought, that it had come from Tris's parents. If they used it, it meant it was worth being used because Valden didn't seem the type to waste his time on worthless things. Briar didn't need to know the details of their encounters, just how he might facilitate his own in the future.

He flipped to the very beginning, scanning each verse quickly until he found what he was looking for about a third of the way through. Something about it caught his eye, and the content was enough to keep it firmly in place. The concept was more playful than serious but with a promise of something more intimate to come.

The picture of it took place in his mind, a chance encounter perhaps? With an old flame or someone new? Caidy, he decided. She was very pretty, and he had never cultivated that relationship as far as he meant to. A chance meeting with her, then, in a garden because all the best adventures start there. Drawing deeper into a somewhat secluded spot, perhaps up against a tree. Teasing tight curls of copper-hair...Briar blinked as the face in his mind flickered. Caidy doesn't have red hair or curls, he told himself firmly as he tried to settle back into his daydream. Stolen kisses in the half-shadow of the tree, the branches moving obligingly to shield them further as he pressed in closer to that full, round bosom...

Briar blinked again in annoyance as the form he wanted to see and the one that presented itself wouldn't agree. Another poem, he decided as he turned the page. He could always come back to that one later. And perhaps, Caidy wasn't the best choice; he'd hardly even gotten a kiss from her, before the end. The next few he idly skimmed through before finding a verse that curled his lips up in pleasant surprise.

It was about a day at the beach, time spent playing in the waves, and a chase that ends in a secluded cove. Again, the ending was more a promise of further things to come, but sometimes, the journey was just as important as the destination. Alice, he decided as he began to read it a second time. Alice had been a serving maid in one of the towns they had stopped at on the way home from the east. She had been tall and strong, with long lean muscles and black hair she had kept almost as short as his. She wouldn't mind running into the waves still wearing her dress, the hem hiked up to plump white calves...

Briar grumbled in irritation. Alice had skin like honey, and not even her breasts could be called plump. Pert, yes. But not plump. Lean calves, then. Lean calves and white teeth in a flashing smile and more than a little enthusiasm for kicking water at him. Shrieks of laughing protest when he kicked it back. And when he finally caught her and squeezed her round form tight-

The plant mage nearly slapped his hand on the chair in frustration as the image flickered again. Wavering between the two, and neither sufficiently distinct for what he intended.

This time he moved further back in the book. Clearly, it had been too long since he'd tumbled a girl, and he would need to find something more serious.

The passage he settled on described a scene of driving desire and and wanton pleasures. Of deep shadows in the dark of night and bodies twined together with sheets and nothing else. Doesn't matter who it is, he decided as he settled in to read. You can't see them anyways. The feel of flesh against flesh, teasing hands exploring his shoulders as he buried his face between full, warm breasts. A chuckled that abruptly melts into a breathy moan as he nibbles at the milk white throat. Hands, small he thinks, fist in his hair and drag him back for a demanding kiss. Short, he muses as he traps the protesting body beneath his and runs a hand down one firm thigh. She can't reach what she wants as he is, and he laughs as her indignant grumbles melts into something closer to a whine at his attentions and the moonlight shifts to reveal...Tris.

"Lakik's teeth!" Briar yelled, startling the maid who was entering the room. She dropped the basket in her surprise, sending the clean clothes tumbling to the floor.

Swearing, Briar threw the offending book back in the drawer. "I'm sorry," he told the maid as he moved to help her pick up the scattered clothes. She shooed his hands away, telling him he'd only make it worse and to leave it to her.

Grumbling, he obeyed. And so it was he met Daja a few moments later; his good day utterly ruined and thoroughly disgusted with himself

When she'd let him go, he retreated to his workshop and firmly shut the door. For the next few hours, the thief threw himself into the process of making whatever he had materials on hand to make. Flowers and plants were harvested from the garden. Dried and preserved specimens pulled from the shelves. The rose oil he began first to fulfill his promise to Master Shubert. Who knew when he'd have another chance to complete it? He went through the beginning steps before leaving the preparation to soak for awhile.

Next came a compound that protected the skin from the sun. He kept the ingredients needed ready, Rosethorn and Tris weren't the only two who requested it from him frequently and made up several small batches with various scents added. And then came packets of fever-tea and headache-tea, both popular sale items at the booth. The tedious task of carefully labeling each eventually helped calm his ragged nerves, and as he moved to a shakkan that was almost ready to be set in its final shape, he finally let himself wonder once again just what was happening to his body and mind.

He'd always had fairly good control over his imagination and daydreams. Sometimes oddities had popped in on him from time to time, but whether or not he'd followed them to the conclusion depended on the oddity. For example, while the thought of two women together was intriguing, he'd quickly decided not to put Rosethorn and Lark in that position, despite the fact that he knew that's exactly what happened sometimes. Partially because Rosethorn would be less than pleased, but mostly because Lark would probably find it funny. And nothing killed a guy's pleasure like being laughed at.

Still, Briar had always been adamantly careful not to think of his sisters in that way. Not because they weren't pretty, they were in their own ways. He wasn't blind, but he wasn't stupid either, and if he thought Rosethorn and Lark might find out about it, the girls definitely would. Then, he'd never hear the end of it. Assuming they didn't kill him first.

As for the imaginings he had allowed himself, he had to admit he preferred redheads to the rest. He hadn't really thought about why, it was just what he preferred. And red hair went best with pale skin. Freckles were a bonus. Lighter colored eyes were preferable. Blue or green. Or grey. One of those. And while Briar had an appreciation for all the many shapes and sizes girls came in, he preferred one you wouldn't be afraid to break with a good squeeze. Plump. Yes, that was the right word, plump.

The fact that this was basically Tris was immaterial. He never thought about her like that.

 _Until now,_ he mentally corrected himself as he began to strain the rose petal mixture through clean cheesecloth. _Because you're a bleeding lech, whatever Master Brunstwort says about it being 'healthy' or 'normal'. Just because she sleeps next to you at night doesn't give you the right. You'd better set your mind straight because she won't thank you for getting too attached. She's not a pretty bit to be used and set aside, like you told Valden. Whoever she finally marries for real is going to be an incredibly lucky guy. But he isn't you, and you'd better forget that nonsense, before it gets you chucked from the roof or struck with lightning. Or both._

Allowing his tasks to completely absorb his attention once more, Briar kept working through everything he had begun. His single-minded focus allowed him to finish the tasks at hand quickly, and as the evening meal approached, his stomach reminded him noisily that he had skipped lunch earlier. Sealing the last glass bottle with a bit of wax, he cleaned up what was left quickly and was almost back in his former good mood as he took the stairs two at a time to change for dinner.

The clean clothes from earlier were now neatly laid out on the bed. He didn't stop to think before diving in to rummage through the stack that had a pair of his pants on top. A shirt, he decided as he wondered what was being made for dinner. Tris hadn't cooked, but the cook they employed was still fairly decent. A roast, maybe, from the bit he'd smelled on his way past the kitchen.

The door opened behind him and an absent mental check showed it was Tris.

"Briar," she asked in a dangerously quiet voice. "What are you doing?"

-090-

Tris had had a marginally better day after retrieving the second batch of pendants. The third hadn't been ready to leave the annealer until too late in the day to work on them before tomorrow. Not if she was going to be ready for dinner in a little while. The second set had yielded slightly better results, those that had accepted the charm had been able to accept it at a stronger level than usual, but only 4 of the 5 charms had made it through the process, and she worried that they might continue to break down, if not used quickly enough.

She had just lowered the wardings on her workshop when she heard Briar leaping up the stairs and enter their room. Slowly, she'd followed, Chime winging past her to get at the glass coloring agents she'd left on the table for the dragon to eat.

Opening the door, she'd found Briar standing at the bed, absently rummaging through a stack of clean clothes, setting each item aside as he continued his search. A stack of clothes that apparently contained her stockings, chemise and finally one of her corsets. And it was, of course, the one she would least wish anyone to see. It was the corset from their wedding day.

All of her corsets were made by Sandry, the stitch-witch having come to the rescue after Tris had complained about how any made by someone else just didn't fit, if she were on either far end of her weight scale. Sandry had provided the solution in a multiple-panel affair with several areas that provided versatile adjustability for whatever size she was then. Tris had been grateful but also stubborn in her insistence that no one was going to see them other than her (or Sandry) and the stitch-witch need not bother herself making them anything beyond functional.

Sandry had relented, mostly, and had contented herself with only the occasional lace trip or pretty fabric. Until the wedding.

The corset was made for Tris, adjustable panels and all, and it was by far the most elaborate thing she owned and still wore. Because, gods curse it, it was also the most comfortable corset Sandry had made to date. The fact that she also strangely enjoyed having something so frilly on underneath her clothes was completely beside the point and entirely irrelevant in this case.

The inner silk lining was a soft grey and the outer a light cream with grey lace along the seams and subtle scrollwork along the edges. The laces were in cream and grey, alternating in a pattern that was matched by the embroidery up the front and back.

"Briar," she heard herself say, her voice strangely quiet. "What are you doing?"

The young man had paused, looking up at her before glancing down at the garment in his hands, as if realizing what he held for the first time. Tris wasn't sure what reaction she was expecting. He obviously knew what it was, and that it was hers. When he carefully placed it back on the stack and slowly stepped away from the bed with a blank face, something inside her twinged unpleasantly. Though she wasn't sure why.

"I was just looking for a shirt," he said in an almost too-calm tone. "And I was thinking about something else. I didn't realize..."

Tris wordlessly moved to the stack. The next item in the pile was, of course, a shirt. Turning, she handed it to him, and he accepted it gingerly before moving toward the bathroom.

The weather witch studied the corset in question, something ugly building in her chest as she debated even keeping it. Unaware that Briar had paused in the doorway, she all but jumped when he spoke.

"You know," he said as though talking to no one in particular, his eyes on the ceiling. "A fellow usually likes it when his girl wears pretty things underneath. It's like a...special secret just for him. So...you should keep that one, for later."

Tris dared only a quick glance in his direction and found the plant mage had turned an interesting shade of pink with a speculative look in his eyes. And then, he abruptly ducked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

The weather-witch wasn't sure why but suddenly she felt a surge of satisfaction. The wedding corset was carefully tucked away in its drawer (after all, it was a gift and very comfortable) along with the rest of her underthings. A quick glance in the mirror showed her hair was still neatly tucked in its snood, and she quietly went down to dinner.

-090-

Briar stood over the wash basin, repeatedly rinsing his face as the blush refused to leave. Why had he stopped to say something? It wasn't his business what she did or did not wear under her clothes.

 _And it's not like you're benefiting from it,_ he scolded himself as he finally gave up and dried off, slipping the clean shirt into place. His hair he fussed with only a moment before trotting back down the stairs at a quick pace. He needed a trim, but it would have to wait, at least, a few more days. The aromas of dinner met him halfway, and his stomach's appreciative rumble finally distracted his traitorous mind from the conversation of moments before.

Following his nose, he found Daja pouring everyone juice while Tris helped the cook place the food on the table. She would head home after they settled in, the maid who came in later in the day remaining to clean up behind them. They were actually incredibly fortunate in their staff.

Upon returning from Namorn, Daja discovered the one maid she had left behind to keep the house in order had been arrested for theft, upon testimony by the servingman Rod. Niko and the Duke had handled the incident in the four's absence, and Daja had been grateful. However, it left her without any help in the house. Rod had, once more, come to the rescue. His wife was looking for work as a maid, and her mother and aunt were a housekeeper and cook looking for a position. She also had a cousin who would be willing to leave for another position as a second maid. As the four had seen with Gerundy, a well-treated staff was a loyal staff, and Daja had made the offers immediately. It was more than Tris thought they needed, but the smith-mage had pointed out that any time Tris left, Daja was not going to take over her duties in the house; she simply didn't have time. Keeping the staff, even when it meant having too much help at times, also meant they were never short of help either. And for Daja, that made the cost worth it in the end.

"How is the Duke?" Tris asked as she served herself from the platter of braised pork.

"Working himself too hard, as always," Sandry replied with a sigh. "Yazmin is planning, with my blessing, to whisk him away on a trip to his hunting lodge that he never uses for a few days."

Briar rolled his eyes as he helped himself to the vegetables and liberally poured gravy over them. "She'll have to kick Franzen out of it first."

"Yes, which is rather the problem." Sandry's shrug was unconcerned; she had no intention of getting involved. "I'm sure she'll come up with something."

"The Duke needs to go ahead and name you as heir." The argument was an old one, but Daja took it up regardless. "Before Franzen makes more of a nuisance of himself."

"I'm not in direct line of succession," her sister replied in a familiar tone. "And Franzen isn't next in line. Gospard is."

"And he would be quite happy to continue to serve in the navy with no more responsibility than his ships," Daja observed dryly. "Which leaves you."

"He treats you like you are the heir and, pretending otherwise is silly." Briar emphasized this with a stab of the knife he was using to butter his roll. The fact that butter proceeded to fall to the table rather diminished the effect. "Now, let's move on before she tries to argue and just ends up upsetting herself."

"I do _not-_ "

"I would like to know how the outings with the Chandlers went two days ago," Daja broke in calmly, derailing the tirade that was sure to have followed.

The married pair traded an unreadable glance. "Well enough," Briar started with a shrug. "I got a lecture on how to 'properly tend a wife'. That was really it." He decided to keep the rest of it to himself.

Sandry smiled sweetly. "Did he give any good advice?"

"Happy wife, happy life," the ex-thief replied sagely. "It's as though every word from his lips is dipped in the wisdom of the ages. He tried to teach me how to buy perfume and took me to Master Shubert's shop. It was...a satisfying encounter."

His smile was infectious, and Daja returned it with a laugh. "That sounds like fun. Did he take you anywhere else?"

"A few places." Purposefully, the young man stuck a massive bite of pork in his mouth and started to chew, saying, "None worth mentioning," out the side of his mouth.

Sandry made a face of disgust and turned to Tris, which was exactly what he wanted. "What about your talk with your mother?"

"It was fine." Her voice was even, but she spoke swiftly as though trying to hurry past something unpleasant. "She was satisfied. For now."

Daja smirked as she tilted her head to one side, "Is this the one that Rosethorn...?"

"Yes." The word was almost bitten off, and Daja's lips stretched in amusement.

Sandry and Daja had both had second-hand accounts of the long talk, both from Lark. The stitch-witch had felt bad for Tris, but Daja had looked at it with a great deal more amusement. Life on board a ship or caravan left no room for real privacy, and even before that, she had known how things worked between adults. She respected the fact that other people believed and behaved differently than her own people. But at the same time, she couldn't help an inward chuckle at the way the conversation had been described.

Sandry, the usual peacemaker, changed the subject when she realized how uncomfortable Tris was. They were soon deep into a discussion about the possible pirate activity in the coming months and what the Duke was doing about it. There had been sightings, mostly from Tris, but nothing of any substance had come of it. It was possible they were avoiding Emalenese coasts all together this year. Briar privately doubted it. Most of the wealth in the area came from or was traveling to the major port city, and eventually, greed would win out over sense. With pirates, it always did.

Dessert was a few cookies over tea, and it was then that Sandry abruptly said, "Briar, I need you to go away for a minute."

"What, why?" The young man had only been half-listening in the bliss that was good tea and spice cookies, and he straightened as he focused back in on the present.

"It's women's business."

"Fine." The eye roll was exaggerated, but he still left without hesitation, only stopping to grab another cookie on the way. The first time Sandry had said that after their circle had reunited he'd insisted on staying; after all, what could they say that could embarrass him? She had proceeded to turn to Daja and Tris and explain at length and in vivid detail a potential problem she was having with her menstruation and did they think she should be concerned? Briar had almost run from the room halfway through, and he had never insisted again.

Sandry's favorite part of that story was that Briar didn't known she'd been bluffing, and after he'd left Daja had calmly commented that it sounded like Sandry was going to die if any of that was true. The noblewoman had sniffed and lifted her nose, replying that he shouldn't have pried and next time he wouldn't fight leaving. She was right.

All three waited patiently until the door to Briar's work room could be heard closing, and Daja held up a hand as she concentrated a moment. "...he's not listening," she finally said, and she and Tris turned to Sandry questioningly.

"I received a letter today from your mother," Sandry said as she fiddled with the teacup in her hands.

Tris fought down a surge of dread and asked as calmly as she could, "What did it say?"

The stitch-witch wouldn't meet her gaze as she spoke, instead staring at the swirling brown liquid in her cup. "It was a request for permission to use one of the local seamstresses to make you something. Something she wasn't sure I would feel comfortable making. And...she asked for your measurements as well."

Tris could feel the heat rising in her face, inch by inch slowly climbing straight into her hairline. She bravely tried to ignore it, but it was hard with Daja hiding a smile and Sandry refusing to lift her eyes from her hands.

The noblewoman, however, wasn't through. "She also sent me the name of the shop she intends to use and asked for my opinion of it. I've seen their work, and it is of very good quality. Not the highest, but still very good."

"What shop?"Daja asked, as she leaned forward curiously.

It was Sandry who flushed this time and for good reason. "Dame Dominique's Distinguished Apparel." The shop in question had a reputation and whether or not it was good depended on your view of things. The more conservative and pious side of Emelan publicly disdained the shop; the most costly courtesans openly visited it with shocking frequency. Her work was known to be beautiful and flattering but mostly practical, in that she made it from materials that were easy to clean and maintain for years of use. Other regular customers included people from every walk in life, and each was welcomed and treated well as long as their purse held enough to pay her high but fair prices.

Daja couldn't help letting her first thought slip from her mouth, "What did you see from _that_ shop?"

For Tris, it was comforting to know she wasn't the only one who was terribly uncomfortable with this entire conversation. Sandry's cheeks were now a deep red, and she answered almost defensively, "Yazmin asked me to repair something for her. It was...a gift from uncle."

Daja's grin spread, and it had a teasing edge that clearly made her sister squirm. "I wonder how it was damaged."

Sandry fought to remain calm and serene, despite the red that stained her cheeks as she explained, "She claimed it was a laundering accident. I don't know if that's true, and I don't want to know." Her flush deepened as she turned to Tris and offered, "If you want, I can insist on making whatever it is she wants myself. It would, at least, mean it won't be a surprise, and maybe I can guide her choices some..."

Tris was just about to vehemently agree, then paused as what Briar had said just before the meal came to mind. Besides, Sandry was busy enough as it was, and it wouldn't be fair to ask it of her. "No, it's fine."

Daja paused with her cup halfway to her mouth, and Sandry gave her a startled glance, the first time she'd dared look up from her hands since the conversation had begun. "Are you sure? I don't _really_ mind-"

"I mean it," Tris cut in, almost managing to keep her voice steady as she did. "Just...give her the measurements, and be done with it. You won't stop her or change her mind, and you have too much to work to do as it is."

"But which set?" Sandry watched as the reminder of that particular detail made Tris' mouth firm into a frown. The weather witch seemed to consider the question for a moment, then waved her hand as though dismissing the matter entirely.

"Pick something in the middle, then. Or tell her the truth and give her the full range, I don't care," she said carelessly, shaking her head as she did. "I doubt any of it is going to see the light of day and once they leave will likely be discarded shortly thereafter." The last statement was not entirely true, which was to say that Tris had decided not to make a decision on that front until she saw the garment for herself. If it was pretty and didn't make her feel ridiculous wearing it, then she might keep it. Probably. Maybe. She would have to see.

"Why?" Daja asked curiously as she refilled her cup from the teapot. "You might find a use for it later."

"To what? Wear around my bedroom while I read?" The weather witch adopted her most practical tone and added with a cocked brow, "Or perhaps to wear while I work glass and bend lightning to my will?"

"I _like_ nice underthings," Sandry said as though defending herself. "Whether or not someone is going to see them. Wearing them makes _me_ feel good regardless, and that's all I care about."

"I don't wear them, but I like other women in pretty underthings," Daja observed when Tris glanced her way. "You shouldn't decide about it until you've seen it; you might actually like it."

The redheads shrug was noncommittal, and Sandry went on, "You're sure, though? About the measurements?"

This time Tris' nod was firm with a tone that brooked no argument. "Yes. I don't know what exactly she's hoping to purchase, or what purchasing it is supposed to achieve, but if she wants to throw money away, I'd rather she doesn't waste your time as well."

"I'm pretty sure I know what she's hoping to achieve," Daja stuck in wickedly, and her sisters ignored her as she laughed at their affronted looks.

"I suppose you're right," the stitch-witch said to both of her sisters and then just to Tris, "Uncle wants to meet them. He asked me to invite them to dinner tomorrow. Is it alright if I explain in person?"

"If you don't mind, I don't."

"Is it safe?" Briar called from the hallway, just out of conversational earshot. "I want another cookie, if Daja didn't eat them all."

"Glutton," Daja called back teasingly. "And yes, you can come back."

"Did I miss anything good?" he asked as he strolled into view, stealing a sugary circle from Tris' plate even though there were still more on the platter. She ignored him, and he grinned all the more.

"It's none of your business," Sandry replied in her haughtiest tone, and Briar's brows rose at the implied challenge.

"It's about that embassy fellow, isn't it? The one from Capchen," he asked casually, and was rewarded as his sister flushed pink. "Ha! I thought that was you."

"Briar! You are so _infuriating_!" she hissed back, folding her arms as Daja laughed and Tris covered her smile with her tea.

"Who did you catch her kissing?" the smith mage asked as she leaned forward slightly. "The ambassador? Isn't he a little old for you?"

Briar grinned broadly and winked as Sandry's blush edged towards a deep red. "Oh, he is, but his secretary isn't. And apparently, he found Sandry quite attractive two balls ago."

Sandry turned away as though in disdain. "I can kiss who I want, and you should keep your nose out of it."

"Just taking a page from your book, Duchess." He winked at his wife who couldn't help but grin back. "So, is this serious enough that I need to have a chat with him?"

"No, it's not." She couldn't quite hide the note of disappointment in her voice. "He's returning with the ambassador to his home soon. He kisses well, but he has no more intention of staying here than I do going there."

"She can't marry a secretary," Daja interjected, mockingly severe. "Her noble ancestors would turn in their grave."

"Oh, _stop_ it!"

The laughter that erupted was infectious, and in the end, even Sandry was holding helplessly onto the table with giggles and wiping tears from her eyes. They stopped only when the housekeeper appeared around the corner, dressed simply in dark grey with her hair neatly knotted behind her head.

"Miss Groves," Daja said as she rose slightly from her seat. "I thought you had left already. Is something wrong?"

"No, Miss," she replied with a quick curtsy. "I know I am intruding, I only wished to make a request of the family as you are all together at one time." She included Sandry out of courtesy, even though the stitch-witch did not reside in the house with her siblings.

"Go ahead," Daja replied quickly, settling in her seat once more. "We are all ears."

"My thanks, miss. I do not believe we told you that my sister's daughter is pregnant, and expecting within the next two moons. You are aware, of course, that we are strict followers of the Path of Mila," the housekeeper said simply, her hands folded in front of her as she addressed the group. "I will understand if it is too great an inconvenience for all five of us to be gone during the five days of rites, but it would be appreciated if we could take turns attending..."

 _I have no problems with all of them taking the five days,_ Briar said as the housekeeper went on, describing a possible schedule that seemed ludicrously complicated. _As long as Tris doesn't mind cooking._

 _I don't_ , she replied as she considered the proposal. _As long as the laundry is caught up before they go, five days should be no trouble. Daja?_

 _I see no problems, if you don't._

 _And if there is a problem,_ Sandry added quickly, _I can lend you someone from the Citadel for a day or two to help._

 _It's settled then._

Daja politely held up a hand when it looked like the housekeeper was going to launch into two or three other possible solutions. The older woman immediately paused and waited.

"You will all take the five days," Daja said simply. "We can manage that long without you. There will be things that need to be completed before you go, but we can discuss that later."

"Miss, are you sure?" Despite the question, it was obvious the older woman was as relieved as she was surprised. The rites were very important, and it was considered an ill omen to be missing key members of the family during them.

"We are all sure," Daja replied as Briar and Tris added their verbal assent. Miss Groves thanked them, curtsying again to them all before she withdrew for the evening.

When Sandry rose and announced she had to leave, there was disappointment in her going but understanding as well. In a trice, the four had said their farewells and parted company, feeling more like their old selves than they had in awhile with the time spent together.

Briar went first to his workshop, checking on a few distillations that would continue to cure overnight. By the time he climbed the stairs, Tris had already gone to their room and shut the door behind her. A quick peek inside showed her reading the book he had picked for her, which made him smile, and he crept down the hall to her workshop where he left the package with the glass pen and ink on her desk. It would be a kind of apology, even if she didn't know what for. Chime would, hopefully, leave it alone and Tris would find it the next time she went in.

Back to the bedroom he went, calling _Tris?_

A sleepy _It's fine_ , came back and he went inside. Changing to sleep, he crawled into bed beside the woman who was his sister first and his wife second, and he was not going to lech on her no matter what.

Or so he told himself.

-090-

Tris was enjoying her second cup of tea when a familiar face appeared in the doorway, eyes as bright and curls as black and glossy as ever and a wide smile splitting her face.

"Glaki!" she cried as her former student and fosterling attacked her in a vicious hug, returning the embrace. "What are you doing here?"

"I brought her along," said Rosethorn as she appeared behind the girl. "Her teacher has been called to perform another task, and she nearly drove poor Comas to distraction being underfoot all the time. Since I was coming here anyways, I decided a few hours away may be good for them both."

Tris grinned at the girl who squeezed her all the tighter. "Briar is in his workshop," she offered lightly, "Would you like me to tell him you are here?"

Rosethorn shook her head, her short hair swaying with the motion. "Not yet. I actually hoped to talk to you first. Glaki, go bother Briar for a moment. Ask him if my wort-feather infusion is ready yet."

The look Glaki gave her was not quite a pout, and one brow inched upwards until the girl stopped and turned to go. "Ok."

Rosethorn sighed as she skipped away, graceful beyond belief and as full of life as ever. "She is driving Comas to distraction, underfoot or not. Puberty is not being kind to that boy, not at all," she said as soon as she was sure the girl was out of hearing.

"Will they be alright as housemates?" Tris asked, obviously concerned.

"I think so," the dedicate replied firmly. "Glaki hasn't realized how enthralled he is with her, and we're planning on keeping it that way."

Tris breathed out in relief and smiled. "Good. You wanted to talk to me about something?"

"Have you had your first talk with your mother yet?"

She hadn't been expecting the question, though perhaps she should have. She was also getting very tired of her face turning red so often, but it did not stop her cheeks from trying to compete with a tomato.

Rosethorn had the grace to hide her smile behind one hand. "I see. Did you convince her?"

"I don't know," Tris replied as concern drew her attention away from her embarrassment. "I think so. She seemed pleased at times, displeased at others...what am I to do if she asks me again? If I repeat the same things she will be suspicious, won't she?"

"Yes," Rosethorn agreed as she considered the question. "In a second conversation, I would try and keep her talking about herself as much as possible. Ask questions about what pleases her or any ideas she may have to share; she has a lifetime's knowledge she is ready and willing to share with you. If you are fortunate, that will keep her distracted enough that you should buy a little more time at least. The problem lies after that, when she expects a full report on how you have used the knowledge she has given you."

"Oh no..." The blush returned in full force, and Tris pressed her hands to cheeks to try and cool them. "You can't be...I'm not going to _ask_ him!"

Rosethorn shrugged, looking serious. "You may not have a choice. She'll want details, more than she has now."

"I can't believe this is considered _normal_." Tris paused a moment then added, "And makes me glad I didn't remain at home as a child, actually. I don't know that I would have ever gotten used to it."

The older woman's smile was crooked, and she laughed softly. "I am much of the same mind, but that does not change the facts."

"...thank you for your help. I know you didn't have to, and that I didn't make it easy."

"You are welcome. I was hoping by this point my life would be less interesting but you kids, to borrow Briar's slang, keep finding trouble."

Tris allowed a small smile TO bloom and said, "It's Briar's fault."

"It probably is," the young man's teacher agreed.

"There's my girls!" Briar walked in, Glaki clinging to his back and laughing in silver, bell-like peals. "Are you two done chatting? This one's' hungry and so am I."

"You're always hungry," Tris replied even as she pulled over a plate of sweet buns that had been cooling on the sideboard. They were filled with berry jam, and Briar and Glaki each took on eagerly and ate it with the pure abandon of one who knows what it is not to have good food.

They really did have a lot in common, Tris mused as she watched them try to smear each other with the sticky jam, and Rosethorn reminded Glaki not to get it on her clothes. Both orphaned young and from the poorest districts of their home town. Both found by mages, and brought to a better life. And both still able to smile, despite all the bad things they had seen.

And that, in turn, made Tris smile all the more.

-090-

"Dining with a Duke," Valden muttered as he fussed with his neck pin. "Personal invitation to a private meal. Even old Uncle Jameson couldn't say that, and he was married to nobility."

"He likely has a vested interest in keeping all four of them together," Darra replied as she applied a touch of kohl to her eyes. "After all, even if we decide the match is a good one, as I am more and more inclined to believe, Tris and Briar may decide to move to Ninver some day to be closer to us. That is likely a thought that he does not care for in the least."

"He does not employ either of them, correct?" her husband asked as he smoothed his undershirt a final time and settled his dinner coat into place. He had almost left the garment at home; what need should he have of such fine clothes for getting reacquainted with their daughter and bringing her home? Darra had insisted, though, and she had proven to be right once again. "I mean beyond the contracted work we've heard of. Neither hold official posts or jobs, correct?"

"I believe so, although one must wonder why. If our daughter is so powerful, why wouldn't he want her in his employ? Surely, it cannot be a matter of price; Emelan is well known for being a prosperous country and Summersea a prosperous port," the black-haired woman said as she checked the color she had applied to her lips for any flaws.

"Perhaps, though that does not guarantee proper management of said funds." The merchant's tone was knowing, and she could understand why. Appearances were always more important than facts in the merchant world.

"True. I have not seen any signs that would indicate as such, but one can never be sure before one sees the books."

"And we are unlikely to have that opportunity," her husband said as he helped her put on her necklace for the evening.

A polite knock at the door, followed by a voice informing them of the arrival of the Duke's carriage put an end to any further conversation.

"Come my dear, our conveyance awaits." Darra accepted the proffered arm, tucking herself close to her husband's side before they walked out the door together and down the hall. Their host did not come to bid them farewell, but neither was surprised. The mage had become a rarity in his own home recently, and neither of the Chandlers minded in the least.

Valden handed his wife into the plushly upholstered vehicle himself, his merchant's mind unable not value what he saw as they sat down. The interior was well maintained but also intelligently designed to wear as little as possible. The seats themselves were covered in a soft leather that was well oiled, and the padding beneath it was comfortable without sinking or sagging in anyway. The shades were of a finely woven linen that would resist staining from dust and the flooring polished, gleaming wood. Wealth with restraint, Valden thought with approval as he noted the discrete, simple carvings in the wood and the high quality of the materials used with a noticeable lack of gaudy ornamentation. If the Duke carried on in such a manner in all his dealings, Valden would likely enjoy this meeting very much indeed.

Lady Sandrilene herself greeting them on the front steps, dressed in a simple but elegant gown of light blue with a veil covering most of her honey colored hair and a pleasant smile on her face. She greeted them graciously and conducted them inside with such practice that it was obvious she did so often.

They were taken to the Duke's private dining chamber, a room that could seat more than twenty but held only a small table tonight by the large windows that faced the city's port. Five places were set, and two people waited for them by the unlit fireplace.

Duke Verdis was a rather forbidding man with fleshy features, deep set eyes and an eagle's nose. The smile on his lips, though, warmed his features to those of someone who could be trusted. Valden liked him already.

The woman beside the duke was thin and willowy with a mass of brown ringlets cascading down her back and henna marking swirling designs from her fingertips to her elbows. Her dress was scarlet and close-fitted in a way that accentuated her athletically lean frame. Valden would have recognized her from across a busy city square; he also wisely kept any such thoughts to himself. Instead, the merchant waited patiently until the couple had approached and their guide began introductions.

"Master Chandler, Mistress Chandler, it is a pleasure to finally meet people I have heard so much about," Duke Verdis said as he bowed to them formally when his niece finished the exchange. Valden bowed in response, much lower than the Duke, and his wife curtsied gracefully beside him.

"The pleasure is all ours, Your Grace," he replied smoothly as he placed a hand on his wife's back. "Mistress Hebet, I do not suppose you would be the Yazmin Hebet, the famous dancer of the Pebble Sea?"

Her smile was quick and white but carefully uninviting. "I am. You are from Ninver, are you not? I lived there for some time with my troupe."

"I believe I had the honor of seeing one of your performances, as a much younger man," Valden replied lightly. "A much younger man who was likely drinking far too much, and so I recall very little of it. My own fault, of course."

"If you will be staying through Mid-Summer, I will be performing in the street festival this year," she replied helpfully, her tone far too innocent. "It is said to be one of the best of my repertoire."

"It is certainly a favorite of mine," admitted the Duke, and the two shared a look that cleared the original question Valden had about her attendance. Yazmin was Duke Verdis' lover and likely lived at the Citadel, even though she had her own residence and school in the city.

Darra unconsciously relaxed beside her husband, and Valden in turn relaxed as well. His wife wasn't one given to fits of jealously, but the one time she'd agreed to don a dancer's outfit for him he had called her Yazmin. He had meant it for a compliment; she had taken it otherwise, and Valden had learned a valuable lesson that had been pounded home with the week he'd spent sleeping alone as a result. Darra remained touchy about dancing girls, though, and there were several fine performances he'd had to skip for the saying was indeed true: happy wife, happy life.

Knowing the beautiful dancer was firmly in the Duke's bed gave Darra the peace of mind to be civil to the smiling woman, and she might even progress as far as being genuinely nice. The fact that Yazmin came to her, hands extended with a bright smile and ignored Valden completely from then on likely helped.

"I have heard a great deal about you too," Yazmin said as she took hold of the hands Darra had automatically extended in return. "And I hope we will be friends. I was wondering, has any described the wedding for you yet? I am sure they, at least, gave you the basics, but has anyone gone over each detail?"

"No, they haven't," Darra replied, surprised at the omission now that she thought about it. The most that had been told was, 'It happened. It was beautiful (and probably expensive).' She had wondered about that. Briar, clearly, could have afforded a lavish affair. Was Tris truly alright with having a husband who was constantly having to hand her his purse? Or had she somehow misjudged her financial situation completely? It was something to consider another time.

"I would recommend asking to see the dress; it was devastatingly gorgeous," Yazmin said in a tone that conveyed envy and pride all in one. "And perfect for your daughter..." She drew the visitor to one side, and Sandry followed with a look of admiration for the dancer. There was something she had not thought to discuss, and Yazmin was the perfect one to discuss it too.

Valden watched them go with the Duke, both men smiling to themselves. "Do you wish to go and listen?" Verdis asked as servers began to bring in drinks for everyone. "Yazmin is a talented storyteller, and it was your daughter's wedding."

"I am sure my wife will recount it to my satisfaction later on," Valden replied dismissively. "I believe they have made it obvious that we are not welcome right now."

The Duke's smile was warm, and he laughed quietly as he said, "I believe you are right. Have you enjoyed your stay thus far, Master Chandler?"

Valden almost told the most powerful man in the city to call him by his first name, then thought better of it. He would not presume too much, even if this was a favored friend of his daughter's. "I find it the same as I have in the past, Your Grace, beautiful and hospitable," he replied cheerily. "The harbor is one of the finest known to shipmasters on the Pebbled Sea, and the city well laid and orderly. There are not many places I would want to visit for a month or two unexpectedly, but Summersea is one of the few."

"You are too kind in your praise," Verdis said, accepting a glass from a waiter and taking a small drink. "And how do you find your daughter and new son-in-law? I have heard it has been many years since you last met..?"

Valden didn't know how well informed the Duke was, given how polite the man was being he assumed either very or not at all. In any case, he decided candor was the right way to go in this case.

"I find her far better than I expected. We had been originally told she was possessed and hoped to only find her marginally sane. To discover she is not only whole in mind and body, but also a powerful mage and married to one who is nearly her equal is a gift from the gods we did not expect."

If any of that was new to the Duke, he did not show it. Instead, he smiled pleasantly and asked, "Then you are pleased with her?"

"Exceedingly. She is intelligent, well-spoken and well-mannered. She is wise in the ways of money and works diligently at her craft. Had she lived in a mansion built of gold majas or have shrines dedicated in her honor as a goddess, I could be no prouder." His smile dimmed to a rueful grin as he added, "She is also the image of my sister who has been gone these past several years. I have not told her that yet, but it does my heart good to see Lyssa's face and hear her voice through her favorite niece."

"I am glad to hear that." And the Duke meant it, Valden thought.

"Do you know my daughter well?" he asked, curiously.

"Fairly well," the Duke replied with a broad smile. "Trisana is fond of books, and we have an extensive library here at the Citadel. When she could not find what she was looking for in the temple records, she would often come here to search and study. When she was twelve, I gave her a key to the room myself, so she would not have to ask every time she wished to visit. Sandry often accompanied her, and we would take tea together before they returned to the temple.

"I was always impressed with how well-read she was and how diverse her studies became over time. Some of it pertained to her magic, yes, but she also studied other crafts; boat building, and carpentry, stone masonry and architecture. She studied art and poetry and read all the classic novels from before her time that she could find. I had the dubious honor of introducing her to plays, dubious only because my knowledge of them is so limited. I have only a passing interest in the scripts themselves, and remember little if I do not see it performed in person."

"And what did my daughter think of plays?"

The chuckle held an edge of dryness to it. "That most of them were very silly, if I recall correctly. The characters, I think, were what fascinated her most and how one could suggest a place or a setting with only a poorly painted backdrop and a few haphazard props. I took all four of them to see a few of the local productions occasionally. The discussions they had afterwards were always entertaining."

Valden couldn't help the stab of jealously at the fond look on the man's face. Darra would have enjoyed taking Tris to plays. Quickly, he diverted his thoughts to something different before his companion noticed his distress. "She still loves books, apparently. According to Briar, anyway. Does she still visit to borrow from your library?"

"Not as often, but she visits every now and then," the Duke said as he took another slow sip of his drink. "Generally, we see her for the days that she scrys the coastline and surrounding countryside. We do not get long to speak then, of course; she prefers to get right to work. But I do try and make the time to, at least, check in on her and be certain she has everything she needs. Sandry sees to the matter very well, but what Tris does is so important I feel it is necessary to be certain."

They were interrupted by laughter from the women, and both men turned to see Darra holding her sides as Yazmin did a comical half-swoon.

"Ah, she is doing her impression of Briar when he saw Trisana coming towards him on their wedding day," Verdis said with a suppressed chuckle of his own. "It's a fairly good likeness, actually."

Dinner was served before Valden could respond, and the group convened at the table that had been set with silver covered platters down its length. The Duke sat at the head, Valden on his right hand and Yazmin on his left. Darra was beside the dancer and Sandry beside the merchant. Sandry did not mind the arrangement; it meant she would be able to observe Darra unhindered as Yazmin skillfully kept her absorbed in the wedding and her Uncle kept Valden busy with questions about his business contacts in Emelan. And what she saw gave her mixed feelings of relief and apprehension. Valden, if she hadn't forgotten everything her uncle had taught her, was being honest and forthright with the Duke. And Darra was chatting amicably and openly with Yazmin. Both were being pleasant and courteous and showing nothing that would give her pause in considering their characters. Lark had observed the same from the visit to Winding Circle. It would have been easier to hate them, she mused, if they had proven to be as ghastly as they had always assumed. But this...this made it harder. Was it wrong to start to like the people who had been the cause of so much pain in her foster-sister's life?

The meal progressed smoothly and was crowned by a fine array of pies that were in season this time of year. Sandry declined having a slice, and before long, the women removed themselves to the drawing room and left the men to talk.

It was there that Sandry finally took charge of the conversation, Yazmin tactfully drawing to the side but still within conversational range as she began.

"You sent me a note yesterday, inquiring about something you would like to order for Tris," the mage began, folding her hands in her lap as they settled themselves into the comfortable chairs. "There was no easy way to answer your note, so I thought this might be best done in person." She picked up the folder of papers she had left in the room earlier, flipping through them until she found the one she was looking for. It was a copy of the pattern for the dress Tris had worn to their first lunch together, and Darra recognized it immediately. Sandry handed it to her for closer inspection, and the merchant wife quickly spotted what she was meant to see.

"Its adjustable," she said, obviously as impressed as she was confused. "Why is that necessary?"

Sandry explained as plainly as she could, keeping strictly to the facts as it were possible and Yazmin adding a few of her own observations as well. Through it all Darra listened intently, her eyes going from the drawings to Sandry and back again as she absorbed it all. At the end of it, she blinked a few times, then set the paper aside and sighed.

"Ah. That does complicate things."

"I have her most recent set of measurements, and I can give you a fairly accurate range of what she could fit in either direction," the noblewoman went on as she placed the paper back in its folder. "But I cannot promise it will fit when you might wish it to simply because of the nature of her...problem."

"Do you have an idea of what I might do?" Darra asked, clearly troubled.

"To be honest, not really," Sandry replied with an uncomfortable frown. She hadn't given much thought beyond presenting the facts.

"I actually have a suggestion," Yazmin put in politely. "I happen to be a frequent customer and an old friend of Dominique's. When Sandry was mentioning this earlier, I sent her a note. She responded just before dinner. If we wish it, the shop will be ours for tomorrow morning where Lady Sandry may discuss Tris' unique situation with the proprietress, and if you would like, we can remain and give suggestions on what we think she would appreciate the most."

"Really?" Darra leaned forward with interest, and Sandry had to admit it solved several problems very neatly at once. "That is quite kind, though I'm not sure what use your suggestions will be. Apparently, she prefers things that are 'practical', and my goal is to show her it doesn't have to be practical to be useful."

Yazmin shook her head lightly, an amused smile on her face. "I think a better term may be 'functional'. Tris has an appreciation for beautiful things, clothes included; she merely prefers that they not be 'useless fripperies' as she once told me."

"And I can tell you from personal experience that not all of her underthings are merely practical," Sandry added a touch hotly. "Some of them are quite elaborate while remaining entirely functional. And leave it to a man to completely misunderstand the difference."

"That makes a good deal more sense," Darra agreed with a low laugh. "You, of course, make them yourself?"

"Only items which are difficult for her to find elsewhere," Sandry admitted with a faint flush. "I haven't...I make dresses and corsets for her, Mistress Chandler. If the dress requires particular undergarments, and she does not have them, then I make those as well. That is all."

"I suppose that makes sense," Darra said, motioning to the folder absently. "That would make finding those items difficult in a usual shop. I am wondering, do you know, Yazmin, if Dame Dominique utilizes any charms in her work?" The slight emphasis on the question was lost on Sandry, but the dancer seemed to understand immediately.

"She does," Yazmin said with a glance at the confused noble. "Basic stain and tear resistance charms, and a very good one her mage can lay into cords to help keep them from getting tangled. Nothing as strong as what you can do, Sandry, but decent nonetheless and at reasonable prices."

"But no...?" the merchant wife waved one hand in a small circle as though searching for the right word.

"Ah, yes," her companion admitted, looking unusually uncomfortable for once. Sandry's brows raised at that, and the dancer frowned slightly. "Her mage does have the ability to lay charms of...arousal. They are supposedly quite good. I would not know for myself."

"Really? Whyever not?" Darra's surprise outweighed her good manners, and she had the grace to look embarrassed herself in the quiet that followed.

"You can only be accused of using such things so gain the attentions of men so many times before even the thought of them lose their appeal," Yazmin replied in a softly sour tone. "So I do not, then I can honestly say I never have and never will. Sandry, is there a reason why such a charm for Tris and Briar may be a bad idea?"

The question was asked purposefully, and the stitch-witch understood immediately what the small woman was doing. Her mind worked quickly, sorting through threads of thought before arriving at a handful that would be plausible as well as effective. "I can give you a few," she said, striving to control the blush that rose in her own cheeks. Darra attempted to hide her amused smile behind one hand and was only partially successful. "Ah...first, I can tell you for a fact that Tris will not wear something that bears such a charm. She does not care to use anything that influences her...mood or emotions."

"The reason being...?" Tris' mother asked curiously.

Sandry hoped Tris wouldn't be upset with her later on for being this forthcoming. "There were some instances when she was younger of being mocked for her affections," the stitch witch said in a low voice. "I think...Tris has no reason to doubt Briar. But, I think whoever she would choose to lay with it would have to be with the knowledge that they did so without the use of magic to...enflame them. Maybe, eventually, that will change but not right now. You would not be able to put them in the fabric without her realizing it, either. She learned to search and find magic from Niklaren Goldeye, the greatest truth-finder of our time. She would find out, and she would be _very_ upset."

Darra did not miss the pain in Sandry's eyes, and her heart twisted with the realization once again that her daughter was essentially a stranger to her. It was this pale, young noblewoman who ached for the wounds inflicted on Tris rather than her mother. Mocked for her affections? Should she even ask Tris, and if she did, would the proud young woman tell her the truth?

"My second concern lies with how the charms work," the stitch-witch went on carefully. "You may have noticed that none of us partake of fermented drinks."

"My husband did, with Briar. Do all four of you...?"

"We do. It's one of the downsides of being an ambient mage. Drinks or smokes or anything that loosens our self control allows our magic to run loose as well. We were fortunate the first time we tried that the damages were minimal." Darra's eyes widened at that. "I don't understand 'arousal charms', as Yazmin called them. I have not studied them and do not intend to. But if the effect is anything like wine or blueleaf smoke, then I think they would agree that, however they might enjoy the effect, it would not be worth the destruction of the house."

"But beyond that," Sandry continued in a stronger voice. "Our magic, at times, reacts strangely with charms and the like. If Tris were married to someone without magic or with academic magic, I would be less concerned. Two ambient mages, though...I have no proof that anything...unusual might happen. I do have a feeling, though, that there could be unexpected consequences for mixing magic with pleasure for them. I have no proof, only a feeling."

"I think, given your experience with magic and my lack of such, that I will go with your recommendation this time," Darra said as she studied the young woman thoughtfully. "The other charms I may look into; it is wise to be certain such items will be able to be used for some time."

"Then I think we are set," Yazmin said cheerily as she began to pour tea from a pot that had been steaming nearby. "A morning of shopping and the store to ourselves! This will be fun!"

-090-

Valden accepted when the Duke offered him a drink from a decanter of amber liquid. He discovered it to be the finest example he'd ever tasted of a local hard liqueur.

"Nothing quite like drinking something that is twice my age," the Duke mused as he took a careful sip and savored it with pleasure.

The merchant couldn't disagree and, instead, lifted his glass in a universal salute that Verdis mirrored.

"I wanted to address something with you," the Duke went on as he put his glass aside and stepped to the window. Valden followed and kept his face a mask of polite interest as he wondered what surprise was to be in store now. "For I'm sure you've learned more about the abilities of your daughter since you've arrived. It would seem to be exactly what every Duke or Lord between here and Yanjing would want in their employ."

"I had wondered," Valden admitted noncommittally.

"I did offer her a job," the Duke admitted in turn, his smile turning wry. "She turned it down and had more wisdom to do so than I did in offering it."

"And why is that?" The merchant's voice was mostly bland, but he could not quite hide his disbelief.

Verdis' gaze was steady as he turned to look at his companion. "Because, hiring her to work for me would be like hiring a soldier and telling him not to use his sword. Because, eventually, there could be a situation where I would either have to choose her conscious or my people. And because having her in my employ could paint targets on us both. It is no lie that I believe her strong enough to defeat an army on her own. She destroyed a ship almost entirely on her own once; she was eleven at the time."

Valden paled, then frowned in thought. "She did not want your enemies to see you as a man surrounding himself with dangerous power."

"Precisely," the Duke agreed, lifting his glass in a salute of congratulation. "Power that she does not wish to wield that way. So instead, we have a contract for specific work and nothing more. She inspects certain earthworks for me each year and scrys over my lands to be sure they are safe. We also have an agreement over providing wind ropes for my navy."

"But nothing...violent," the merchant said, feeling the word grow sour in his mouth. "Or particularly unusual that would display that side of her abilities."

"Exactly. But do not think I haven't seen your daughter's power. She is strong, so very, very strong. And intelligent, and brave. Any man would be lucky to have her, and Briar is aware of that fact, I think." His smile took on a fond edge as he mentioned the young man, and Valden felt his estimation of the plant mage rise slightly. If a Duke thought highly of his daughter's husband, well, it could only be to the good.

He settled with replying. "Then he is wiser than most young men his age."

"He has also seen more than most young men his age." The Duke pulled a marked board and a bag of colored pieces from a sideboard, setting his empty glass to one side. "I am told you are fond of Castle," he said, motioning to the game.

"I am," Valden replied, pleasantly surprised as Verdis began to set up the board on the table that had held their dinner the hour before.

"Good, there are too few who will play me anymore, everyone is afraid they might beat the Duke." The wry glance he gave Valden inviting him to share the joke, and the merchant chuckled lightly.

"I don't know how to let other people win," he said, a careful warning note in his voice as he seated himself to one side of the board.

Verdis sat on the other side, looking at his opponent with a pleased smile. "Good."

-090-

Author's Notes:

And that's it for this week. This chapter was 40 pages long, so I hope you enjoyed it!

The Bargain: 20 reviews, guys. 20 reviews, and you can a new chapter that is an additional 20+ pages long immediately. You can do it, make the effort and it will be worth it, I promise!

For those of you who reviewed last time, thank you as always! I hope everyone is getting into their summer and enjoying the warmer weather. Or not, depending on the side of the globe you are on. :)

Until next time,

~CB~


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9:

Tris had always been one to have vivid dreams. Not all of them made sense, but it was a fairly consistent theme for her to have people she knew in them. Boys and, as she grew older, men had occasionally begun to show up from time to time when she reached puberty. They weren't always about physical relations, but there were usually a few mixed in the rest over the course of a few weeks. Of course, she never breathed a word about it to anyone and suspected it was one of the reasons she had learned to shield her mind so well from her fellow foster siblings. It was embarrassing enough just having it in her mind; if someone else had known, she probably would have died of mortification right then and there.

The dreams seemed to follow the cycle of the moon, growing stronger as it grew fuller and then becoming fewer as it waned. It was such a normal part of her life, though, that she never even considered marrying Briar might cause an issue. The first full moon had been during their 'bonding week', and while the usual dreams had taken place she had thought them nothing strange other than they seemed to be more about cuddling than anything else. Which, on the whole, she hadn't minded as they'd left her feeling warm and secure and nothing more.

The second full moon was anything but unexceptional. When she woke up that morning a little red in the face and a glazed look in her eyes, she brushed it off as odd dreams when Briar had asked what was wrong. He thankfully didn't argue when she offered him the bathroom first, and then waited for him to leave completely before climbing out of bed to begin cleaning herself up.

Nights with vivid dreams were never the most restful, and last night had been no exception. Today was going to be a very long day.

-090-

Darra wasn't sure what to expect when she reached Dominique's shop the next day, her husband escorting her to the door before heading to a nearby pub to wait.

A pair of guards stood near the door, but inside, she found only Lady Sandry and Yazmin already speaking to a lovely, plump woman Darra assumed was the proprietess. Between them, they passed pieces of paper, and the round woman was nodding enthusiastically as Sandry or Yazmin pointed something out to her on the sheets.

As she drew nearer, the woman looked up and smiled, bobbing a quick curtsy though she did not put the papers down. Yazmin was the one who did the honors, and she introduced her friend as Dominique Fardwen, once a talented Costumer in a traveling company of performers who had risen to something more.

"It began just as something to help bring in more money," Dominique explained in a surprisingly quiet and low voice when the merchant's wife couldn't help but ask how this had come to be. "This," she motioned to the two story building of considerable size, in which she lived and worked, "Was never part of the plan. Still, my work gained popularity, and my daughter married and moved here. When I was able, I came to stay here as well, to be near the grandchildren. Eventually, my business grew, and now, I have my own shop."

"I am still very glad it happened," Yazmin said as she hugged her friend with one arm. "You are now close enough for me to visit as well and to make use of your considerable talents when I need them."

"Are you ordering more today, as well?" her friend asked with a teasing smile. "Your Duke spoils you too much."

"He is a Duke; I do not argue with how much he wishes to spoil me," Yazmin replied with an equally teasing grin.

"I am very interested in Lady Sandrilene's designs as well and am honored she is allowing me the use of them for this project, Mistress Chandler," the shopkeeper went on as she turned back to her guests. "I believe she has given me enough information regarding your daughter that accounting for her...quirk shouldn't be difficult at all. We should be able to accommodate whatever it is you wish us to make."

"And with that I must leave," Sandry said with a somewhat wistful tone as there were some fabrics on the wall she would have very much liked taking a closer look at. "The work of a city never stops, and something came up that cannot wait."

"Of course, you are very busy," Darra said reassuringly. "And I appreciate the assistance you have already provided."

"We will come another time," Yazmin said as she exchanged kisses with the young woman, having not missed the wistful glance. "When you will be able to browse through her fabrics at your leisure."

"You will, of course, be more than welcome anytime, my lady," Dame Dominique added quickly, dropping into another curtsy.

"You are too kind, and I may take you up on that offer some day. Good day, Mistress Chandler, Dame Dominique. Yazmin." Sandry was out the door before any of them could reply, and the dancer sighed as she shook her head.

"Too much like her uncle," she said with a fond smile. "Always working, working, working. Now." Yazmin turned towards her friend. "I am not certain what Mistress Chandler is looking for, but _I_ would like a peek at anything new."

Dominique wasted no time, calling for a few of her girls as she escorted the pair to a set of comfortable seats towards the back of the shop. First outfits of various types and a selection of common fabrics were made available, each laid out on the table or clothing stand. It was easy for Yazmin to make her selection; her friend knew was she preferred and readily made such options available. Mistress Chandler was less certain.

"I believe I may have to purchase more than one," she said after reviewing several items and discovering the lack of knowledge about her daughter was once more proving to be a hinderance. "Unless you can suggest one item in particular that you believe would accomplish my goal, Mistress Hebet?"

"Yazmin, please," the dancer replied lightly. "And I actually must agree with you. Given what we discussed last night, I believe two or three options may have better results than one." Which was to say, though she kept this to herself, that Yazmin hoped she might steer the Chandler matron to at least one or two options Tris might actually wear, whether or not Briar was going to get to see them.

"Very well. How do you think this would suit?" The plan Darra laid out was ambitious, and Dame Dominique had good reason to look pleased as she began to make notes. Yazmin's suggestions mainly came in the form of which colors or fabrics to choose.

"What happened to that one gauzy silk you had about?" she asked her friend as she sorted through the fabric samples. "The one you called 'Mists of Night'?"

"We had to stop offering it," the unofficial Dame said with a sigh. "Especially when the air grows dry, it would crackle with bits of sparks. I tried offering suggestions on ways to mitigate them, but after multiple patrons complained about shocking their partner accidentally at inconvenient times I decided enough was enough. We still get requests, of course, and I have my mages looking into a magical fix. They haven't made much progress, though."

Yazmin glanced up as something about the complaint tickled a memory in the back of her mind. Tris had made something for Sandry because of a complaint like that. Rods, which the stitch-witch would hold with both hands for a few moments, before going to work on some of her more 'friendly' fabrics and threads. The ones that liked to stick to her hands and clothes, and would occasionally sting her on accident.

"I may know someone who could help you with that," the dancer offered slowly as she thought it through. "Maybe. I would have to speak with them, see if the item works the way I think it does."

"From a mage?" her friend asked, hesitant.

"Yes, a licensed one," the dancer reassured her quickly. Work from anyone without the correct paperwork was always a risk. "Would you be interested if they had a way to make that stop?"

Dominique was quick and certain in her reply. "Absolutely! Speak with them, and let me know."

"I will."

For an unschooled seamstress, her writing was quick and neat. Darra was impressed as she exchanged a stack of golden coins for a sheet of signed paper that detailed the work that was to be done and when it was to be delivered. Yazmin received one as well, and the two women bid their goodbyes before parting company at the door.

-090-

The internal image of her (pretend, Tris tried to remind herself) husband leaning over her, kissing the back of her neck and whispering the sort of things one reads in a romance novel while nibbling on her skin had stayed with Tris for the rest of her day. Briar asking for the fifth time if everything was alright when she flinched at his touch was the final straw, she begged off not feeling well and went upstairs to lay down for awhile.

 _I will not lust after my brother, he is not my real husband; he is not someone I can fall in love with. I will not lust after my brother, he is not…_

"Coppercurls?"

Tris opened her eyes to find Briar sitting beside her on the bed, a worried look in his eyes. "You don't feel warm," he sighed as he ran a hand along her brow, her face flushing instantly as the memories came flooding back. "But you keep turning red. Are you sure you're feeling alright?"

"Yes," she replied, closing her eyes as his hand skirted to her hairline and began to trace it gently. "I just need to meditate, I think. My mind is…running free too much." And his fingers tracing down her neck _weren't helping_... Stupid, _stupid_ girl, he doesn't mean it like that.

Briar paused as Tris scowled, withdrawing his fingers slightly as something twinged painfully inside his chest. "Tris...are you mad at me?"

"No," she said, opening her eyes as the scowl softened into a frown. "Not at you. Please go away, Briar. You can't help me with this." And having you here is making it worse, she added to herself.

Briar couldn't quite hide the hurt in his eyes, and Tris impulsively caught his sleeve as he slid away from her. He paused, waiting, and she inwardly sighed. "It's my magic," she said softly. "If you were able to help, I _would_ tell you. I would. It happens every moon, when it gets full like last night it's at it's worst."

"Is it always this bad?" he asked quietly, as though speaking too loudly might break the moment between them. His hand caught hers, and she flushed again. She shouldn't have stopped him, but her traitorous arm had and now she had to finish this or he really would be hurt. Somehow, that possibility seemed worse than her own turmoil inside.

"No," she admitted hesitantly. "I think...I think everything going on has made it worse." She didn't specify which 'everything' was to blame, and he immediately choose the culprit she had hoped for.

"Your parents and the stress," he answered. She shrugged, and he nodded. "There's...nothing I can do? If you need to talk to someone who's a girl I could...go get Daja..." The offer was ridiculous; she could reach for Daja herself, without even moving from the bed. She still smiled slightly, and the hurt he still didn't quite understand eased a bit.

"No," she said, though she seemed less upset than before for some reason. "Let me meditate and...rest. If I need something, I _will_ call for you. I promise."

"I'll hold you to that," he said, bending over to drop a quick kiss on her brow before turning to leave. "Good husbands care for their wives, you know." It was meant as a joke, but today it wasn't very funny for some reason. He laughed at himself anyways, the sound strained in the quiet between them, then left. Tris rolled to her back, covering her face with her hands and sighed.

Green Man give her strength, it was going to be a long day.

-090-

Darra entered the Inn to find her husband with a troubled look on his face and his tankard still half-full. The second part informed her of how serious the first was, for he was not a man to forget his favorite drink without reason. Quietly, she requested tea for herself and settled across from him at the small table to wait and see what the trouble was now.

"A thought occurred to me," he began after a few moments, glancing up at his wife with a frown. "Do you recall when we...discovered all we had not known or assumed incorrectly?"

"Yes." Her reply was quiet, and she leaned forward curiously.

"And you said that they must think we are monsters." The words made them both flinch, but his wife nodded nonetheless.

"Yes."

"You don't suppose..." Valden licked his lips nervously, then shrugged as he said, "It is only that I watch them and I see affection and even love but not the passion I would expect of a young couple who married for love. He is courteous and attentive and kind, and guards her from others as he should. She is helpful and witty and compliments him as she should. But we have not caught them in a private moment together, or heard any stories of such from their friends. I know that the Emelanese can be more...uptight about such things, but Traders are not and I would bargain that their foster sister has as wicked a sense of humor as most her people do."

"What are you driving at, darling?" Darra asked in a quiet voice as a tendril of alarm began to grow in her chest.

Her husband did not respond immediately, and when he did, he started off on a different track. "Imagine," he said carefully, "That we had adopted a child. One of a decade or so old, one with...scars. And stories. And when we do meet a single member of his or her family it is not a good experience, and he is supposed to be one of the good ones. Nearly another decade passes, the child has become ours as much as any of those we gave birth to, and then we were to get a letter informing us that his or her parents were going to arrive soon to claim them again."

"No..." The word was a broken whisper, escaping from numb lips as her eyes widened.

"I would say, what can be done? Can we keep them away? Save this child somehow?" He continued ruthlessly, sparing neither of their feelings as he followed the logic to its end conclusion.

"No, they can't have..."

Valden rubbed at his face, unable to meet his wife's anguished gaze any longer. "Even if the child is not a child any longer. But in the letter, the contract, there is a way. A...loophole."

"You think-"

"I suspect," he cut in quickly, laying a hand over hers. "Nothing is certain, but I...feel as though it is a possibility."

"You think that they married, to protect Tris from _us_ ," she said, tears brimming in her eyes.

"As you said," he sighed, squeezing her hand as she pulled out her handkerchief. "They must think we are monsters."

Neither spoke for a time as Darra strove to master herself and Valden dealt with his own guilt over his actions of nearly a decade before. He could not disagree with his earlier assessment: being sent to the temple was the best thing to have happened. If Nikolaren could be believed, Tris likely would not have survived to be an adult without training. Training she never would have received without his help. But oh how it hurt, to be viewed with such disgust and knowing he deserved it, even if it had been for the best in the end. Even if he were wrong and Tris had married Briar for love, it did not excuse the neglect and abuse she had suffered at the hands of her family.

"I do not know which I find worse, that they are lying to us or that Tris may be lying with one she did not choose for herself merely to guard against us," his wife finally said as she discreetly wiped the last of her tears from her face and took a sip of her tea.

Valden shook his head quickly, a wry smile on his face. "That I do not worry as much about; for I believe that, if I am correct, they are no more husband and wife in that sense than strangers on a street. Oh, they may share a room, perhaps even a bed, but I do not believe he is forcing his attentions on her or vice versa. Given what we have seen of these people she calls family, I do not believe she would have consented to any scheme if she did not trust him to guard her virtue as much as her secret."

"What do you think they would do if we left them alone?" Darra said quietly, watching her husband with troubled eyes.

"Likely cut ties with us entirely," he said after a moment of thought. "Her birthday would come in a year's time, and the marriage would end. Peacefully, of course. No need to cause a scandal. We might get a letter about it, and then, she would disappear. It is what I would do in her situation, were I trying to fool people I did not think highly of."

"No, no!" It was anger this time that brought a flush to her cheek, and the woman barely kept her volume in check as she cried fiercely, "We have been without her for nearly ten years, I will not lose her again! We will confront them about it and get to the bottom of this one way or another!"

"And why should they tell us the truth?" her husband replied calmly, knowing the flash of anger would not last long once she could see the logic of it. "How have we earned their trust? We have been here nearly a moon and have met several times, but we hardly know them more than as mere acquaintances. Our daughter is a stranger to us, and I am afraid, if we pushed for the truth and my suspicion is correct, she would flee. We would never hear from or see her again."

"We cannot bring this up without proof," his wife sighed as she realized he was right. The anger drained away and, with it, the tension in her frame. "Proof and the knowledge that she would trust us enough with the truth. Valden...she is safe and well cared for here. Even if she were not happily married, I would consider letting her decide whether or not she returned to us. Truly. But I will not leave my child only to have her slip away from me again. We _must_ fix this."

"We will find our proof, then," Valden said quietly, putting his hand over his wife's once more. "And we will build that trust. We will see her settled, one way or another, and leave knowing she is better than we found her."

"I agree. Forgive me, but I hope we are wrong, Valden. I had started to like him," Darra sigh was full of sorrow. "Couldn't you imagine him with Thomas and Leigh and Gareth at a family gathering? And with his charm, I believe he would even have your Aunt Isla smiling at him before too long."

"This is not for certain," Valden reminded her gently as he laced his fingers with hers. "They may very well be more circumspect in their relations, or simply nervous of being publicly affectionate. We have not given our blessing after all, and that, if nothing else, could cause unease. Even if they did not marry to protect her from an imagined threat, they would still be leary of us. We need to study the situation further and discover the truth."

His wife nodded, giving him a faint smile. "Yes, that we will, and we should begin today. You were going to speak with the young man again anyways, yes?"

"Yes," he agreed as he rose to his feet and left money on the table.

"And I with Tris," she said as she rose as well. "Let us waste no time. Though we will need to return to our home and responsibilities eventually, I will not do so until this is settled!"

-090-

Tris was unsurprised and unusually grateful when her mother showed up just after lunch, requesting her presence once again in a way that made it apparent that it wasn't really a request. It would, at least, get her away from Briar, who was all too concerned about her 'problem he couldn't help with'. Bringing lunch upstairs for her and staying to talk for a moment had been thoughtful and kind. It also hadn't helped. Neither had escaping to her workroom, only to find a present on the counter.

It had Briar written all over it, from the plain brown wrapping paper to the lack of a note attached to it. Her father had probably suggested it, which actually helped some, but a part of her couldn't help hoping he had made the purchase on his own. A traitorous part that needed to be locked in a deep, dark dungeon for all eternity before it got her into serious trouble that she wouldn't be able to get herself out of. Either way, the pen was beautiful and fit her hand like it was made for her. She would use it, if only to have something else she could safely discuss with her mother and not at all because using something Briar had gifted her with gave her a pleasant glow inside.

Away they went to the same establishment, securing a private room and refreshments as quickly as before. Tris had almost enjoyed debating with herself where she should begin the conversation on the way there. It kept her from dwelling on the disaster her morning had been. She may only have one chance to distract the Chandler Matriarch, and it had to be potent enough a draw to last their entire meeting. Her own troubles and turmoil receded to the background, and the relief that brought was nearly enough to bring a smile to her face.

The weather mage waited only until the door shut behind the last servant before speaking. "M-mother, I have a question." She flushed at the stutter, but the word felt unusual in her mouth after not saying it for years.

Darra Chandler paused, eyes unusually bright. "Could you say that again?" she asked, her voice trembling.

Tris repeated the request in a steadier tone. "Mother, I have a question."

"You haven't called me mother since you were four." Tris was flummoxed as her mother burst into tears, covering her face with her hands as something inside her broke. Quickly, the weather-witch fished a clean linen from her pocket and offered it to her mother. Darra took it, then pulled Tris along into a tight hug. The young woman stiffly accept the gesture, slowly relaxing as her elder calmed her tears and laughed with embarrassment.

"I am sorry," Darra said as she wiped at her face and pulled away to look her daughter in the eyes. "You haven't called me that since you were four." Tris couldn't help notice that her mother's face also grew red and puffy when she cried, and that she seemed to hate it every bit as much as her daughter did, if the scowl she directed towards the mirror was any indication.

"What was I like when I was four?" she asked impulsively, taking a half step back before seating herself.

Darra laughed again, shakily this time as she blew her nose loudly. "Is that really your question?"

"No," Tris admitted with a shrug. "But the rest can wait."

The merchant's wife almost dismissed the question, surely there were more important things to discuss, then remembered. Trust. Perhaps this was important after all. "You were serious, with eyes bright and intelligent and your hair an untamable cloud of brilliant red curls," she said softly, clearing her throat as she dabbed at her eyes again. Tris listened silently, preparing the tea that had been brought for them. "You had a lot of your father in you, and everyone always remarked on how clever you were, just like him. When your sister was taught to read, you picked it up just by being in the room and listening while others thought you were playing with dolls. I didn't believe your nurse when she said you had insisted on reading your bedtime story yourself until I saw you do it. You were barely three years old. How proud your father and I were of your clever little mind."

"If you were so proud of me, then why did you give me away?" The question was asked calmly, but Tris could feel the old wounds inside even after all this time.

Her mother's shrug was that of someone who knew their answer wasn't a good one, but had nothing else to give. "We thought it was the only way to protect you. And your father and I were scared, scared of what others might do to you, of what future harm may come to your siblings, what you eventually might have become. We did everything we knew to do..."

"Well, it wasn't enough, was it?" Tris' gaze was steady, and Darra met it, despite the pain it caused.

"No, it wasn't," she agreed softly. "To be honest, I did not know until recently about the abuse you suffered at the hands of our family, but that doesn't excuse me or your father for allowing it to happen. At the time, the best decision we could come to was to send you away."

"Why didn't you at least say goodbye?" Tris asked, cold anger layering her words with ice. "Didn't you think that maybe I was scared, too? I didn't understand what was going on anymore than you did. Things just... _happened_ , whether or not I wanted them to."

"I could give you excuses," Darra replied, her own voice laced with pain. "I could tell you so many things that influenced our decisions back then, but none of it will satisfy. None of it was logical or of sound judgement. We allowed ourselves to be swayed by the beliefs and fears of others. I suppose it is too late now to ask for your forgiveness."

"Sandry would say it is never too late, but I am not sure that I am ready to forgive," her daughter admitted raggedly. "You abandoned me. Left me alone. I can't remember most of my childhood because _I don't want to_. I didn't feel safe or accepted or cared about until I was almost eleven, and it took months for them to convince me that I was _worth_ caring about because that's how much I believed no one ever would. _You did that to me._ " Tris took a deep, shuddering breath as she closed her eyes, willing away the tears that had risen to the surface. "I don't know if I can forgive you," she finished quietly. "Not after everything that happened."

"Then perhaps I should stop prying about the son-in-law who cares for you and, instead, ask about the girl I so carelessly let go of," her mother said softly, touching gentle fingers to Tris' cheek. She did not miss the way the weather witch flinched at the touch, and her heart ached with the realization that this might be irreparable. Even when she had heard about the abuse, she had not considered how deeply scarred her daughter still may be.

"I don't think you want to know," the redhead said with a hint of stubbornness.

"I don't," Darra admitted, with a shrug. "I should very much like to pretend it had never happened at all. But I need to know, and I think you need to tell me."

Tris had never given a full account of her time among her relatives before. She had doled out tidbits here and there, even showed her foster-sisters the scar on her shoulder where her uncle had struck her with a hot poker. But in this telling she spared no details. Being locked in cold, dank cellars at night. Eating only the scraps left of the servants dinner. Being forced to do the heavy household chores that should be beyond the abilities of a child of six, seven, eight, nine and ten. And being punished when her abilities were not up to the task. Sleeping on the floors of kitchens, closets, in stables, away from everyone else lest she somehow contaminate them with her very presence. The rituals she had been forced through by uncaring scholars of religion to try and purge her of her 'evil'. Tests she had undergone to prove her 'demonic' or 'changeling' nature. Her mother listened, silent tears tracing down her face at times and eyes blazing in anger at others.

The beatings and whippings had been easy to speak of, the curses and vile names less so.

Tris had only reached Broken Circle temple loading her off on Niko when it was time for them to leave, feeling empty and spent as her mother left a generous tip for the staff and took her home.

Darra had not hesitated to hug her daughter, though the young woman barely had the presence of mind to respond in kind. "We will continue another time," was the only thing she said as she pressed a kiss to the freckled brow, walking away and wiping at her eyes surreptitiously with a linen square.

Tris went up the back stairs to her room, seeing no one and laid on the bed once more. She was thoroughly distracted from earlier now, and entirely absorbed by something else. And now that something else was tearing her apart from the inside instead.

Wonderful.

-090-

Briar had heard Darra arrive, waved to the pair as they went, and returned immediately to his garden. He wondered, briefly, if he should have protested her going. Something still wasn't right with her, and he didn't like it, but knew Tris would probably skin him alive if he called attention to it now. Deciding it wasn't worth the risk of said skinning and that maybe talking with the reason for her stress might help, he got on with his work.

When Valden arrived half an hour later, he gave the older man a polite nod from where he knelt in the dirt but remained as he was otherwise.

"I can't go traipsing off today," he informed the merchant firmly as he carefully placed the seedling in the hole he had made. "But you are welcome to stay if you like."

"If you don't mind, I will," Valden replied, pulling over a stool from a shady spot. "Mages don't usually let people see them work."

"It won't be anything special," the mage replied with a laugh. "Today is planting and weeding. Lots and lots and lots of weeding."

"What, you can't just magic them away?" Valden twiddled his fingers dramatically in what he likely thought was an accurate demonstration of using magic.

"Might be able to," Briar replied, stifling the urge to roll his eyes. "But meddling that much is dangerous. Maybe, I make a spray that kills the weeds, but what if it kills my flowers and my useful plants? Or poisons the vegetables I grow? Maybe, I make it a charm instead, inscribed on something in the soil. But what if it also keep out the worms or the bugs? The good ones that help the soil replenish itself. Or maybe, I just pull them out by the root, and toss them in the compost heap where they'll do some good because easy isn't always right."

The merchant shook his head, rubbing at his chin thoughtfully. "So what you're saying is magic is useless."

"No, I'm saying using it wisely is what separates the mages from the bleaters," Briar replied seriously. "Our teachers pounded that into us time and again. If there's a perfectly good way to do something without magic, then do it that way. Sandry weaves the fabric she makes the old-fashioned way, and generally buys most of it from trusted sellers in the marketplace. Daja could pull metal directly from the earth, but why bother when she can purchase bars of good ore for a decent price and far less trouble? I could take a seed, and in hours take it through every cycle of its short life, harvest the seeds and begin again. But unless there is a need, I let them grow in their own time in my garden."

"It still costs you time and energy," his companion pointed out, motioning to the tools laid out around them. "A lot, I would wager."

Briar nodded but added, "But not as much as it would to do it by magic. What you save in time you must give up somewhere else, and usually, it is not an equal exchange."

"Then what's the point of having magic." The words were almost plaintive, and his companion laughed.

"I wonder that myself, sometimes," the mage said as he regained control of himself. "I suppose it is like being a merchant and discovering an untapped market. Having magic gives you information, insight into something no one else or few others can see. Having the information does not by itself make you successful or wealthy, but doing something with it and doing it correctly does."

"How so?" the older man asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Briar glanced around, then pointed to some purple blooms with white centers in a pot to the side. "Those flowers there," he said as he gestured. "They are from Yanjing, and most people can't grow them here outside of a hothouse. Most people think it's because it's too cold here during our winters, but that's not true. I know why because I have information they don't. The winters here near the sea give our soil a 'taste' that the flowers don't like, so they don't grow properly when it comes spring again and dies before giving seed. The soil in the pot was specifically cleaned of the 'taste' before I grew the flowers in it. In two months, when these seed and sleep until next year, I will take the pot inside and keep it stored through the winter. Then, in the spring when it is time to plant again, I will bring it back out and start again. Because of this, they are able to grow very well here, and I am able to harvest more with less bother than those who keep them in hot houses or plant them anew each spring. Mine also grow larger and give more blooms because they are older and being kept outside through the summer makes their scent more potent. Because of that, I make a better price per ounce of the oil they produce with the perfume sellers and make more profit off what I sell."

Valden considered that, then nodded slowly. "Very clever, I am beginning to see your point. It is work, and hard work I'm sure, but made more productive by the 'information' your magic gives you."

"Exactly." The plant mage went back to his work, and the merchant sat there thoughtfully as both got lost in their own minds for a bit.

"Does Tris' magic work in this way?"

The question caught him off guard, and Briar hesitated, sitting back on his heels as he deposited a handful of weeds to the side. "That's not a simple question to answer," he finally said, voice grave. "What Tris' magic is best at are big things. Moving mountains or changing the course of rivers. Calming storms and stopping earthquakes. Shoring up the sides of a narrow ravine that would cost several hundred agribs to fix the usual way. That makes small things hard for her. Her rain shield charms. I've seen her lay one over a small village, without bothering to look up from her book or turning a hair for hours at a time. But trying to pack that much strength into a piece of glass, it just can't contain the same amount of power she does without breaking down. You don't realize how strong she is until you think about how hard it would be for you to do the things she does."

"People have mentioned seeing her touch her braids makes them nervous," the older man said in a carefully neutral voice.

"It makes me nervous too."

Valden sat up in surprise, and his voice betrayed his displeasure. "You're afraid of her?"

"No, I'm afraid for her," Briar said stoutly as he went back to pulling weeds. "I'm afraid that someday she's going to meet a problem too big, and take it on anyway because there is no one else."

"That she'll face it alone," the merchant said in an understanding voice.

" _She would not be alone_." The young man did not shout, but the raw intensity burned through his words to the older man and left him feeling scorched somehow.

Valden processed that silently, and Briar turned back to his work, moving among his plants with a tenderness that seemed impossible after the naked fury of moments before.

"I think I will take my leave," the merchant said after a time. Briar nodded and gave a slight bow from his knees. Valden returned the gesture and then stepped forward to lay a hand on the young man's shoulder. "It is good to know," he said softly, "that she would not be alone."

He squeezed once, then turned around and left. Briar watched him, uncertain of how he felt in the aftermath of the exchange.

-090-

It was a few hours later that he found Tris still lying on the bed as he came upstairs to change out of his dirt-stained clothes into something more acceptable for dinner.

"Are you ok?" he asked when he realized she was awake and not scrying or meditating.

"No. Maybe. I don't know." Her face contorted into a scowl, but practice told him it was not directed at him.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting next to her on the bed as she sat up and rubbed at her eyes under her wire-rimmed spectacles.

"Only everything!" The explanation exploded out, as though holding it in a moment more would have simply been impossible. Briar listened attentively, only raising his brows when she reached the part about describing what living with her relatives had been. She didn't go into detail with him, but he hadn't expected her to. At the end, after she accounted for everything up to the moment she had been left at the front door, she seemed to collapse in on herself. The energy from before deserting her in a great rush of a sigh.

"It must have hurt, listening to you describe all that," her husband said as he laid a careful hand over hers.

"I think it did," she agreed, her voice just short of lifeless.

"And how did that make you feel?"

The question was a difficult one to answer. "I want to pity her," Tris said after several moments of thought. "To feel...relief that she was hurt about it too? But I was too mad. So I felt- nothing. Just cold and shriveled up inside."

"Master Bruntswort used to say that if you hated one thing long enough it would eventually taint everything else that you loved. And that refusing to forgive or let things go eventually breeds the hate that will eat you from the inside out like a cancerous growth." Briar felt a little silly saying the words, but they had rung true for him when the soulhealer had spoken them two years ago.

Tris slid off the bed, scrubbing at her face again as she turned away from him. "Argh! Why can't this be easy?" she hissed through clenched teeth, facing out the open balcony door. "I just want to be _normal_..."

"I think even 'normal' people have problems sometimes, Coppercurls." Briar stood slowly, taking her by the arm as he pulled her into a hug. She didn't resist, but kept her gaze away from him as she rested her forehead on his chest. "You know...I don't think they're bad people. Stupid and ignorant but not bad." He gave the opinion quietly, carefully venturing into potentially unpopular territory.

His wife scowled, even as she felt the tears rise to the surface once more. "I know. And that somehow makes what they did worse."

Briar wrapped her a little tighter in his embrace as he whispered, "I know."

Tris didn't want to cry. She hated that every time she did her face turned red and blotchy and her eyes would swell and her nose would run. The fact that she now associated that with her mother suffering the same plight only made it worse. It would take hours before she would feel like herself afterwards, and it never seemed to help like some people said. But the feelings inside were too overwhelming to fight any longer, and Briar's embrace was warm and _safe_.

He never let go as she wept, never said it would be alright or that they'd figure it out. He didn't treat her as a child and pat her on the head, or do anything to distract her from pouring forth the grief and pain she'd been holding for far too long.

Her small hands eventually stopped scrubbing at her face, and he was startled to realize how perfectly she fit under his chin as she stood inside his arms and just breathed.

"I want to keep hating them," she said softly, exhaustion coloring her words.

"How dare they be decent people who made a couple of wrong decisions," Briar replied deep in his chest. She snorted, and he grinned. "Admittedly, terrible, wrong decisions, but look on the bright side: if they hadn't, I'd never have met you."

"Not true," Tris replied absently. It was an old argument, but it helped her find her center as she followed the familiar path of logic. "He was looking for us. Niko was looking for all of us, and he would have found each of us, eventually."

"Maybe." He conceded, dropping the point as he sensed her draw away. The plant mage let her, but felt the space she had left in his arms and wished it didn't feel so empty.

Bells began to ring in the city, announcing the hour, and Tris started scrubbing at her face again to try and erase the signs of her tears. Briar handed her a clean handkerchief from his pocket, and she thanked him before adding, "We'd better get ready for dinner. Daja will be wondering where we are, and the cook was going to make that chicken dish you like from your travels."

"The spicy one?" he asked, distracted from his debate of whether or not she needed another hug. You know, just in case. Because sometimes you needed more than one hug.

"The one I need to eat with twice as much cream as you to be able to stand it? Yes." It wasn't her favorite dish, but the combination of spices were tasty, even if they left her feeling like her mouth had been burned for a day or two afterwards.

Briar adopted an all-too innocent tone as he asked, "Sandry's not coming to dinner?"

"No," Tris replied as she added some cold water from the washbasin to the handkerchief and pressed it against her face. Sometimes, it helped the redness go away faster, and she didn't want to have to explain to Daja why she had been crying. For some reason, it didn't bother her in the least that Briar had been there. "She refuses to eat it after that trick you played on her last time. Not telling her what it was...that was unkind, even for you."

"Her face was worth it, and Daja agrees," the plant mage said, entirely unrepentant.

"You really are infuriating sometimes," she said as she tried to hide a smile.

"And you love me anyways. Lucky me." He said it dramatically, but it did not draw the dry chuckle it once would have. Instead, Tris blushed and refused to look at him, turning away abruptly.

"I'll get changed and meet you downstairs?" he offered when the silence began to stretch uncomfortably long.

Tris nodded and left.

-090-

Rosethorn had decided from the beginning that she was not broaching the subject of Tris' family with Glaki. If the girl wanted to ask, she could, and until then, the dedicate could pretend that none of this fiasco was happening. She had reached her own conclusions about the couple, and they were surprisingly similar to her student's. However, she had little respect for people who did not own up to their failings and attempt to make amends.

Still, none of it was precisely Glaki's business and she and Lark had agreed that it was best to keep their students in the dark until they had no choice in the matter. Darra's unexpected visit to the house had nearly forced her hand, but Glaki had obeyed and since then said nothing about the matter.

It was after dinner, and Evvy was outside in the garden with Luvo, while Comas had retired to his room early. Finding herself at the table alone with the beautiful Tharian girl, Rosethorn had a feeling her reprieve was about to end.

"Rosethorn," Glaki said carefully as she watched her foster-mother with unblinking eyes. "If I ask you a question, would you answer it honestly?"

"If I thought you were old enough to hear it, yes," the plant mage replied in her soft, slow voice. As an afterthought, she added, "Which you probably are, all things considered." It was difficult telling a child who had grown up in the poorest district of a city that she would not understand something. She not only did understand, Glaki would probably handle it better than some adults.

"Why are my Tris' parents here in Emelan? Why didn't anyone tell me they were coming, and why did you not want me to meet them?"

The Dedicate didn't answer immediately, instead folding her hands and staring at the girl intently. When Glaki didn't flinch or get up to leave, she sighed. "That is three questions, not one. However, Tris' parents gave her to the temple when she was around the age you are now. They thought she was possessed or some such ridiculous nonsense. What none of us ever knew was there was a contract that allowed them to come and collect her around her twentieth birthday. The contract had a clause that allowed Tris a way to remain here with us: get married. Briar proposed, and she accepted."

Glaki radiated disappointment as her face fell. "So...they aren't really in love."

"No, they were not," Rosethorn agreed carefully. "The Chandlers came because there was no time to inform them of the wedding before they arrived. They have decided to remain to ascertain for themselves whether or not Briar is a good match for their daughter. Legally, the contract gives them no power over the situation, but until Tris turns twenty one, they can still cause trouble. The hope is that they will decide Tris is fine where she is and leave."

"So everyone is lying to them." The pointed statement was delivered with a disapproving frown.

"Everyone is carefully omitting a single truth- that their love was that of siblings when they married, not of lovers." Rosethorn shrugged after a moment. "Which is, I suppose, the same as telling a lie. Would you have rathered they told the truth and Tris had to leave without saying goodbye? It might have happened that way."

Glaki was silent for a long time, her face a study in concentration as she thought through everything before she spoke. It was something Tris had taught her in their traveling days together and had come in useful more than once. It was also something Rosethorn had found extremely annoying as it had made the girl that much harder to distract.

"No," she agreed after a time. "This is better than her leaving. They won't stay married, though."

"Most likely not," the dedicate agreed softly. "They will wait for Tris to come of age, though."

The girl's sigh was huge, seeming to deflate her completely as she rested her chin in her hands. "Oh. I had thought...I just wanted my Tris to be happy." Tears filled her eyes, but the girl stayed silent as they ran down her cheeks.

"She has always been happy with you," Rosethorn said awkwardly as she patted the girl on the arm. "And when you're able, I know she's looking forward to you living with her some day."

"It's not the same," the girl whispered as she wiped at her face in vain. "Boys used to make her thunder inside, when they would be mean, but she never did anything back. I just wanted her to find someone who sees how wonderful she is! And I thought she had..."

The tears came faster, and Rosethorn glanced over her shoulder at Lark's workroom. Her partner and friend came to the door as though summoned and, assessing the situation quickly, came to Glaki's side to wrap her in a gentle hug. She hummed as she held her, and Glaki quickly regained control of herself, though she remained in the dedicate's embrace.

"You still didn't tell me why you didn't introduce me," she said after awhile, looking to Rosethorn again.

"We didn't want you getting attached to them," Rosethorn replied simply. "We didn't know if they would try to use you against Tris. Having learned more about them, I don't think they would have. But we didn't know that at the time, and it is our duty to protect you as much as we protect her."

"What happens now?"

"Now, I think it is best if you stay out of it. Tris and Briar are doing well so far, and hopefully, the Chandlers' will soon be heading home to trouble us no more. But until then, Lark and I agree none of you children should get involved."

"And now you know the truth," Lark added as she smoothed the girl's hair back from her face. "I am sorry, little one, that your hopes for your Tris were unfounded. But don't worry, she is a grown woman and can see to herself."

"I suppose I can see where you would want her to find someone," Rosethorn mused to herself. "It would probably be like when you were with Keth all the time."

"No, because that's not the way Keth and Tris were," Glaki replied softly. "He respected her, and she took care of and taught us, but she never had anyone special like you two."

Lark looked to her her partner who smiled faintly but nodded. They had never wanted to outright ask, and Niko had always been a little fuzzy on the details. He tended to get wrapped up in his own affairs, and while Tris had been adamant that Keth was only her student, they had never been quite sure. Given how often she wrote to the young man, there had been some reasonable suspicions. Still, at least there would be no potential problems with the marriage with that out of the way.

-090-

It was after dinner when Daja pulled the envelope from her pocket, one corner slightly crinkled from the cramped space and soot smeared over the thick paper.

"What's that?" Tris asked as she poured herself a second cup of tea. She needed it to try and rinse the last of the burning spice from her mouth.

"Our invitation to the ball next week," the smith-mage replied with a grin. "Sandry is hosting it, and Yazmin has planned it. Your parents were invited and have already accepted, according to Sandry, so she thinks we should come too."

"You usually avoid those kinds of things," Briar observed thoughtfully. "It wouldn't be out of character for you not to go."

"It would be very out of character for you," Daja pointed out. "Everyone knows you love to dance."

Briar rolled his eyes and tried to sound certain as he said, "Well, yeah, but she's the wife."

"It would still be noticed." Daja's response was more to her sister, and the weather witch sighed.

"We'll go," Tris said, mostly to stop them from arguing but also because Daja was right. "Or at least we'll make an appearance. It's been awhile since I've been anyways, and I promised Sandry I would be at the next one I was home for. I had assumed I would have a year to put it off, but I don't and that's that."

"Sandry also included instructions on what she thinks we should wear," Daja added as she scanned further down the note. "She's a little irritating when she does that, but she's also usually right. She does have the best fashion sense out of the four of us."

"How long do we have to dread this momentous occasion?" Tris asked dryly.

"A week. You're sure you're going?" Daja asked with a hint of teasing, and her sister gave her a dark look. Yes, she had ducked out of such engagements before, but the smith mage should know better given what was at stake.

"Yes," she said with certainty, and Briar smiled. He like dancing, and Tris was a decent partner. She wouldn't want to go the whole night, but he would get a few rounds in, even if being married meant most of the rest of the room was off limits.

Daja smiled back. "I'll let Sandry know, then."

-090-

Author's Notes:

Well, that was certainly a busy chapter. If you liked it drop a review for the author.

The Bargain:Yes, still doing this. 20 reviews guys, I know you can do it! Each chapter is getting like 40 some hits in the first two or three days, so if even just half of you reviewed you would immediately earn a new chapter within 12 hours of the 20th review going up. It seems like a pretty good deal to me, just saying. :)

A clarification: It was pointed out to me (by Fateless who is awesome) that Evvy's death reference in the previous chapter may not be understood by everyone, so here is some clarification. If you have not read Battle Magic there will be spoilers! In Battle Magic, Briar believes Evvy died for a good couple of chapters. In terms of time, I believe it is implied that a few weeks to a moon or so has passed before they discover she is not dead. That, plus everything that happened to Briar in that relatively short period of time, I think contributed hugely to his PTSD. There was a lot of guilt built into leaving Evvy behind, and even if she wasn't dead she didn't come through that experience unscathed. So, still guilt piled on top of guilt. So, in a way, in his mind, she did die. That still left a mental wound that needed help healing.

Also: so apparently I have messed up a name. It is Duke Vedris not Duke Verdis. However...I'm pretty sure that at this point it is Duke Verdis in essentially the whole 20-ish chapters that are complete. For the sake of continuity (and the fact that only one person has noticed so far, thank you livezinshadowz for being awesome) I am probably going to leave it that way. This is assuming my Beta has not been changing them behind me without me noticing. Or that at some point I started to get it right. It's fanfiction guys, so perfection just isn't going to happen. You know who I mean either way, right? Still, sorry for the mix up.

I think that's all. I hope everyone had a fun and safe Memorial Day if you are stateside, and a good week in general if you aren't. Until next Friday (or, you know, sooner if we get 20 new reviews!).

~CB~


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

It had been a last minute decision to spend the day at Winding Circle, but Tris wanted to check something in the library and Briar had a question for Rosethorn regarding one of his shakkans and a mixture he'd accidentally discovered the week before. Breakfast was eaten in the cart as the donkey pulled them along through quiet city streets , and they arrived just as breakfast was ending at Discipline Cottage.

The inhabitants welcomed them with open arms, and Glaki was in heaven, even if she now knew the truth about the marriage. Lark and Rosethorn allowed her to accompany Tris to the library, and the two spent most of the morning among the shelves, picking volumes at random and reading them together, once the weather witch had finished her own research.

Briar's time with Rosethorn was equally well-spent, she had not seen the mixture before, but it worked as he thought it did and she congratulated him on the find. The shakkan was less successful, she had no answer for why it would only grow in a spiral despite the shape being wrong. Evvy then took him to her room where she showed him all the new specimens of stone her teacher had brought her to study, and how she was learning to mold stone without needing to heat it up.

It was fascinating, watching the stone move like water, but also a little disconcerting as he mind kept insisting it must just be a trick. It couldn't do that, and if it could then it wasn't stone. But as soon as she stopped, he picked up the piece of quartz she had formed into an wavy line. It felt solid and heavy enough in his hands, until she took it and started forming it again. Eventually, he had to stop watching.

Lunch was taken together at the kitchen table, and Tris and Briar sat with them and talked and laughed and remembered old times.

Afterwards, Glaki asked if she and Tris could visit Little Bear, and Lark agreed so long as they stayed within the fence. Her teacher would be arriving soon, and she should not keep him waiting.

Briar went out to the garden with Rosethorn, intending to help her finish the weeding for the day. It was still hours before they had to leave in time to get back for dinner with Daja.

Glaki led the way to the stone marker Evvy kept polished and clean, kneeling beside it and petting it as though it were alive. Knowing Evvy, that was a possibility.

Little Bear had lived a long life for a dog born on the streets. The animal healer they had taken him to when he'd sickened the year before had said it was likely something he'd picked up as a pup and never quite gotten over. Good food and a warm place to sleep had added years to his life, but he could not repair what was already damaged. If they tried, they might keep him alive for a time, but it would be painful and hard. They had made him as comfortable as they could, called in everyone to say goodbye, and kindly put him to sleep with a draft in his favorite evening meal. It had been Rosethorn's suggestion, much to everyone's surprise, to bury him among the flowers in the front of the cottage.

Tris had surreptitiously removed her glasses as they walked outside, pretending to clean the lenses though she was really putting off seeing the polished white stone. It always made her tear up, and she felt a child for still grieving an animal that had been gone more than a year.

She replaced her spectacles in time to see Glaki's eyes widen. That was all the warning she had before a pair of arms wrapped around her from behind and lifted her feet from the ground. Her hand reached for her lightning braid even as she checked to be sure it wasn't Briar. It wasn't, but there was a _likeness_...

"Kethlun Warder, _put me down!_ "

The man laughed, a sound she didn't know she had missed until it was ringing through the air, but obeyed. Glaki didn't wait for her to move out of the way, launching herself at the man and holding tight as he swung her high. The girl's feet came no lower than his waist for several moments, and when he finally set her down, they both collapsed to the ground in a dizzy heap.

"Keth, I can't believe you're here!" Glaki crowed with joy as she sprawled next to him. Tris was fixing her dress, giving them both dark looks by turns but unable to completely suppress her smile.

"Coppercurls?" Briar called carefully as he rounded the corner of the small cottage. His hands were held in a way that suggested he was reaching for a knife. "Are you alright? I felt-" He stopped when he saw the still giggling Glaki on the ground with a tall man he recognized, even if they'd never met. "Oh, you're-"

Keth's face immediately lit up as he scrambled back to his feet. "And you're- you don't know how much Tris talked about you. About all three of you. I feel like I know you already." He stepped forward, hand extended eagerly.

Briar's smile widened as he came up beside Tris, accepting the taller man's firm grasp before putting an easy arm around her. He couldn't say why it was important, but his gut told him it was. "You don't say. Coppercurls told us about you too. What brings you to Emelan?" Tris gave him a glance of surprise but didn't protest and looked back to Keth as she waited for his answer.

Keth paused as he glanced between them, eyes finally catching on the glass collar around Tris' neck. "You're married," he said, the words tumbling from his mouth before he could stop them. "I mean- congratulations."

Tris and Briar traded surprised looks at his less than pleased tone. Briar, at least, was happy to see she was as confused as he. Tris was just confused. "Yes," she replied after a moment's hesitation. "It was recent...I would have written, but you said you were traveling in your last letter. I wasn't sure where to send one in reply."

"I suppose it makes sense," Keth said, his tone unusually quiet as Glaki did cartwheels in the background, having not quite caught on to the sudden tension between the adults. "You always did talk about him the most..." Tris flushed as Briar looked at her inquiringly, grin growing smugly.

"That I want to hear more about later," the ex-thief said with a laugh. "But really, why are you here? Tris never said you were coming to visit."

"Oh, she didn't know I was coming," Keth admitted with a rueful laugh. "It was supposed to be a surprise. I came to propose to Tris."

-090-

The tea had been Briar's idea, he thought they all needed it after the complete and utter silence that had followed Keth's announcement. In a rare moment of good timing, Glaki's teacher had arrived to whisk her off to lessons, and she had poutingly gone after promises that Keth would come visit again soon.

The nice thing about tea, he observed to himself as he watched everyone gather around the table, is it takes time. You have to heat the water, add the leaves, let it set for awhile. And even then, you have to doctor it up however you like it. His had honey and a touch of cream. The time that it took was time you weren't fighting or yelling or getting more upset. You had to be calm to pour tea or drink from a mug without spilling. And no one liked spilled tea.

Introductions were made by Briar, and everyone took a seat as they received their cups and began to prepare them. Lark was as inviting as ever, and Rosethorn kept to herself as usual. Both sat at the table with the group, listening carefully despite having projects of their own upon which they worked. Keth was invited to catch them up on how he had come to the errand he had proclaimed outside, and what followed was more than Briar had bargained for.

Keth started his explanation not long after parting company with Tris and Glaki some three years before. His presence had been requested at home, and he had gone, despite the apprehension that he might be in for a scolding for his unusual involvement in Tharian law-keeping over the last year or so.

He could not have been more wrong. His welcome had been lavish and loud, with parties to celebrate his successes and a huge ceremony to have the title 'Master' officially conferred on him after he demonstrated his new abilities with lightning and glass. He was named the official successor of the family glass shop, and he had been given fine rooms in the family house with his own set of servants to see to his needs. He had been the envy of his peers, a welcome change from the scorn and pity he had encountered when he had left.

And of course, as he had settled into his new role, his family had begun to bother him about marriage. He had a gift, one they hoped would be passed to another generation. He _had_ to be wed. If nothing else, being wed was what one did, if one wished to be seen as respectable. His father had implied that if it was a matter of gender, he had no objections to a son-in-law instead, and Keth had assured him that no, he still preferred women.

Finding a wife, however, proved to be a problem. His betrothed, as Tris had mentioned before, had not waited for him. Given that he had not even bothered to keep a correspondence with her during his time in Tharios, he had not been surprised. She had married one of his cousins, and Keth was once more on the hunt. At first, it seemed he would have no end of choice. A famous glass mage who could also wield lightning? Surely, he would be destined for a great things, for riches and glory and everything a man wished for his daughter. Until Keth had lost his temper.

The man refused to say what it was he had lost his temper over, only explaining that the result had been instantaneous. Lightning had sparked in his eyes in his anger, and suddenly, his prospects were gone. Fathers no longer approached to casually mention their daughter's large dowry; mothers no longer sang the praises of their offspring in his hearing. Young women no longer flirted from across the room. He was still invited to such assemblages, of course; he was too important to completely ignore. But it was made clear that he was no longer considered an eligible match for any of the suitable young women who attended.

It had been Keth's father who had thought of the scheme to find him a foreign wife. From some place where, if she weren't quite as suitable as would usually be the case, it could not be easily ascertained when they gave her a higher pedigree that she truly deserved.

"So being sent off to find a wife," Keth finished in a jovial tone that wasn't as convincing as he'd like, "I came to visit my old teacher and see if she'd like the job." His laugh at his own joke was strained, and no one else joined him.

"Why?" Tris asked when he fell silent once more. "I'm not... _we're_ not..." The flush that rose in her cheeks was clearly from embarrassment and made Keth feel even worse.

"I know we don't love each other like that," he said quickly, trying to give her a reassuring smile as he did. "But a good marriage can come from friendship and respect. And I thought, if I were supporting you, you wouldn't have to worry about money without resorting to war magic. You and I and Glaki could stay together, and that would be enough for me. You took care of us, I was just trying to return the favor."

"She's good at that," Briar interjected proudly, his arm still around her like before. Tris flushed more. The sense that her husband was also holding something else back vibrated restlessly through their bond, and between that distraction and her raging embarrassment, she couldn't quite seem to find her center.

"I also thought your family might approve since they already know me," the glassmaker added in an off hand way.

"Well, most of us only know of you," the plant mage pointed out, giving the older man a strange look. "Though Niko and Glaki have spoken highly of you to all of us."

"Oh, I didn't mean her adopted family," Keth said, taking another drink of his tea. "I meant the Chandlers. I met them, and they aren't quite what I expected them to be. Speaking of which, I know this might be a shock but...you have a little brother named Thomas, and he's my apprentice."

"I have another brother, and they never said anything?" Tris replied, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.

"Wait, _another_ brother?" Briar replied in puzzlement. "You mean you actually _have_ other siblings?"

"I mean, I did," she said, feeling like she was babbling as she went on. The confusion and faint hurt she sensed from him was enough to keep her further off balance as more words spilled from her mouth. "There were two born before me and one after, but I haven't seen them since...since I was four or five, I think...I can hardly even remember what they looked like."

"Why would they have told you?" Keth asked, even more confused than they are. "You haven't seen or spoken to them in years."

"They're here, now," Rosethorn said, her voice unusually sharp as she eyed the visitor suspiciously.

"What? But, they aren't supposed to come for another year." The words were spoken with the confidence of one who should know. That made most of the table frown.

"What are you talking about, another year?" Tris asked carefully, a sliver of dread working its way into her chest.

"They came about the contract with the temple, right? But you don't turn 20 for another year." Keth looked annoyed now, as though a trick had been played on him. "Of course, your father would not be content to wait, though. When he makes up his mind, he forges ahead without thought, much like someone else I know."

"Oh no, Keth..."

"I mean, I encouraged them to reach out," the man plowed on, completely ignoring the furious glare growing on Tris' face as he was absorbed by his own train of thought. "You need to reconcile them. They're good people. But I thought they were going to wait until a few months before your 20th birthday."

Tris hissed between clenched teeth, her eyes ablaze as lightning began to twine through her braids. "Kethlun Warder...you...!"

Keth paused, finally paying attention to someone else other than himself. The glare Tris leveled at him made him lean back slightly, and he frowned in response.

"What? Even if they did come a year early, they can't do anything for the next year," he grumbled loudly. "Not until...not until..." His words stumbled to a halt as the realization of his mistake finally hit home. "You turn 20 this year, don't you?"

"This is your fault," she said so coldly he was surprised ice didn't form on the table. "You _encouraged_ them...would they have even come, if not for you?"

"Probably not," he admitted in a quiet voice, clearing his throat before going on. "They were afraid...that you would be mad. Or possessed. Or dead. As long as they didn't ask, they could pretend that you were happy and safe, better off away from them. Asking meant they had to face whatever the answer was and could no longer hide. You father is not a coward, but he feared seeing you broken as most fear death."

"You wouldn't know it from the way they've been acting," Briar grumbled as Tris covered her face with both hands and sighed. The anger left as quickly as it had come. Her temper was always quick to flare and equally quick to burn out.

"Tris...?" Keth asked, worried now as the enormity of his mistake began to settle in.

His teacher raised a single finger, and he immediately went quiet. "No," she said as she dropped her other hand and looked at him flatly. "Not right now. I am very tempted to actually show you how upset I am as you would probably survive it. Maybe. Stay here with Briar. I'm not done talking to you, but I need to meditate first."

"I don't understand," the glassmaker protested once she had disappeared up the stairs, hunching his shoulder defensively. "It's not like it's that big of a deal. She's married now, and they can't do anything about it, right?"

"I think it's time for a story," Lark said as she poured him more tea from the pot and patted his hand comfortingly.

"Is this really the time?" he asked, rolling his eyes.

"Yes." Something about the way the single word was said gave Keth pause, and he glanced over at the slight, willowy woman with her short hair and heart-shaped face. The look she returned was one he recognized from Tris. He could choose not to listen, but there would be consequences. In the end, he would still do as asked. Carefully, he nodded, and she went on with a smile. "Has Tris ever told you about the time she tried to stop the tides?"

"Only a little," he admitted after a moment of thought. "It was mentioned, once, and she refused to talk about it after that. Was Master Niko being serious, or was it just-?"

"No, she did." Lark's smile was fond and a little exasperated at the memory. "Miraculously, she survived. But it left her very weak for a time, and that first night, it took Rosethorn and I working together to get her from her dress to a nightgown. We knew she was shy, she preferred to bathe and dress alone, but until then, we didn't know why."

"The scars began high on her back, and descended almost to her legs. Whip marks, I think. And a burn. And some...others. And there was more. Eventually, she told us how she got them. Some of them. Others she refused to speak of. All of them were inflicted on her by her family."

"Not her parents, they aren't like that." The protest this time was weak, as though he wasn't quite sure that was the truth.

"No, not them," Lark agreed softly. "She was very clear on that point. They never laid a hand on her. They also never raised a hand to defend her either. That, and that they gave her to the temple, was all that we knew of them."

"Until Amery," Briar broke in darkly.

"Until Amery," Lark agreed. "He was her cousin, supposedly one of the nice ones, and he betrayed her and the temple. That only made things worse. Now imagine that you find out these people are coming, and you know what they did to her once, and they want to take her away..."

Keth's head was bowed as he said, "You had to protect her. Why didn't you run?"

"We tried, but she wouldn't go," Briar said simply. "It would have broken faith with the contract and gotten our teachers in trouble. She refused to cause trouble for anyone else. She was going to sacrifice herself, go alone like a lamb to the slaughter..."

"They aren't like that!" It was almost a shout, and the glassmaker had the grace to look ashamed as he said in a moderated tone, "Maybe...maybe, it would have been hard, but they would have tried to make things right."

"We didn't know that," Briar said, and there was no argument against that. He didn't say, you should have warned us. Should have written Tris. Should have told her about her brother and her parents and how they were. He didn't have to. Keth avoided the young man's gaze and moved on.

"So you asked her to marry you."

Briar nodded and said, "It was the only option we could see to keep our family together."

"How did you convince her to say yes?" Keth's self-deprecating shrug brought a faint grin to Briar's face, the unspoken 'she obviously didn't just accept' hanging between them.

"I am very persuasive," the plant mage said in his best mock-defensive voice.

The lightning mage nodded, the tension from before bleeding away as they moved to a safer topic. "Big wedding?"

Briar's groan of disgust was very convincing. "Huge. Sandry invited every boot-licking toady she could round up for the occasional." Rosethorn nudged her student less than gently, and he shrugged when a pointed glare was added a moment later. "Ok, ok, so not every single one, but it was big. The Duke officiated, and there was a banquet in the gardens afterward."

"You probably had to wear something horribly uncomfortable." Keth winced in sympathy, but it was Lark who shifted this time with a self-satisfied grin.

"No, that part wasn't too bad," his companion said with a shake of his head. " Sandry is a stitch-witch you know, and she learned from Lark, which pretty much means she learned from the best. They were fancy but not uncomfortable." His foster-mother gave him a winning smile, and he smiled back. At least some women appreciated his flattery.

Keth hesitated before asking slowly, "How did Tris look?"

Briar didn't immediately answer. He could still remember that moment, seeing her walk down the middle of the crowd, and it was like he'd yanked her lightning braid on accident. In the end, he could only say one word.

"Beautiful." Eventually, the young man came back to himself and noticed the speculative look his foster-mother was giving him over her tea. A glance at Rosethorn showed the same. He cleared his throat and asked roughly, "Shouldn't...don't you have to get to the temple for your shift, Lark?"

"Come, dear," Lark said as she rose to her feet. "The boys want to talk alone." Rosethorn got up as well, and Lark followed her into her workroom where they shut the door firmly behind them. Briar waited until he was as certain as he could be that they weren't being listened to any longer.

Turning to Keth, he said firmly, "I need to know how you really feel about me marrying Tris,"

"Oh, it changes my plans, but I never really thought she would accept." The words were not completely honest, but Briar allowed it to pass. His conversation with Tris about 'options' came back, and it was likely Keth had heard the same. With Briar's reputation, no wonder the tall glassmaker had been surprised to find them married. "I like her, she's kind and honest and she really cares about people. I don't know if...she'd ever want to..." Skin flushing and shifting with discomfort, Keth cleared his throat and went on quickly, "Well, not having children would be fine with me. We'd have Glaki, and we could adopt more, if she liked. Mostly, though...mostly I wanted to protect her. I was there one of the times she had a job offer. It sounded like a dream come to life, but Tris saw the trap before I did."

"War magic." The words were leaden and fell heavily between them.

"Yeah. It was underhanded too, the way it was hidden in the contract," his companion went on slowly. "I suppose I am lucky in some ways. I have lightning, but not the way she does. It's tangled in my magic, and I have to make allowances for it. It allows me to use it with my magic, when I handle it properly. I can absorb it without harm, if I am careful. But I can't simply produce it the way she does. I'm not able to cast it out of a clear sky, or use it as a weapon. So I'm not offered great contracts for work, but I'm also not expected to slaughter cities on the whim of some high-handed master."

"And her other gifts she might use to make money..." Keth shrugged, and Briar understood. Shifting mountains or rivers didn't need to be done very often. "She won't tamper with the weather without serious cause, and her wind scrying doesn't give her enough warning to accurately predict the future, unless something has changed. She's more powerful than almost any four mages combined, and she has to count coppers to make ends meet. I could, at least, give her financial security. I'm a Master Glassmaker now; after this trip, I'm settling permanently at the family shop. I won't ever be rich like a lord, but we'd be more than comfortable. She could read to her heart's content and be with Glaki."

"You're a good man, Keth," Briar said grudgingly, the words dragging with reluctance for some reason. "But you know she wouldn't be happy living a life of luxury and idleness." The last was added with a slight barb, one the older man ignored completely even as he nodded.

"I know, I just wanted to give back for what she gave me. I thought lightning was a curse, and she turned it into a blessing." The plant mage couldn't argue with that.

Briar contemplated his quiet visitor for a moment, then made up his mind. "Why don't you go...where are you staying again?" He frowned, wondering if the glass mage had even thought that far in advance. They could house the pair if need be, or Niko. Niko would probably be better...

"In a decent inn, the Mariner's March." The answer was quickly given, and Keth shrugged. "The family is footing the bill for the trip, so I'm not staying anywhere with fleas or questionable food."

"That is a decent inn" Briar agreed, and he understood the sentiment. There was nothing like waking up from itching bites to ruin your rest, and a poor breakfast to follow just made it worse. "Ask for the gooseberry pie with your dinner. Go back there, and we'll send for you tomorrow."

Keth nodded after a moment's thought, rising to his feet as he said, "I am sorry about this."

"It's...well, it is your fault, but we'll muddle through." The younger man tried to smile, but it didn't have the same easiness of before. "I feel a little terrible for having to say this, but you will keep our secret, won't you?"

"I would do anything for Tris," the older man said simply. "And I don't see how there is a secret. You married Tris because you love her. Anything beyond that isn't anyone else's business."

"I suppose I did," Briar admitted after a moment's thought. "We'll see you tomorrow."

The plant mage saw their guest out, hesitating outside Rosethorn's workroom door before heading up the stairs. He wasn't ready to face them yet and speaking with Tris seemed more important anyhow.

He knew Tris could feel him as he came closer, the prickly feeling of her anger in the back of his mind had receded, and she was, hopefully, in a mood not to strike him with lightning.

The trapdoor to the roof was open, which he took as a good sign, and he carefully proceeded up the ladder. She was laying in her old spot among the clean thatch, eyes watching the sky as soft white clouds were born against a brilliant blue backdrop.

"No storm?" he asked as he lay beside her, their arms touching.

"I'm upset," she replied flatly. "Not out of control." Grey met grey-green, and she sighed as his brows lifted slightly. "The weather conditions aren't right, and it could seriously harm the young crops. But I was tempted, I truly was."

"That's my girl," he replied, and she could feel the smile in his voice. She ignored how pleased that made her feel and sat up instead.

"I suppose I should go talk to him," she said with reluctance. "I can't keep him waiting forever."

"We'll see him tomorrow, when we've had more time to let you sort things out," Briar told her as he sat up as well, absently pulling a loose piece of straw from her hair. "He told me where he's staying in the city."

"Where?" she replied, turning towards him in surprise.

"No, we'll see him tomorrow," he told her with infuriating calmness, adding as an afterthought, "And probably your _new brother_ too."

Tris ignored the jab, glaring as she told him hotly, "I didn't ask you to stick your neb in my business."

"Nope." Briar's grin disarmed her anger, but she maintained a slight frown even as it drained away. "I decided to stick it in all on my own."

"Sandry would be proud of you," she told him in an attempted riposte, but it lacked her usual venom. He grinned all the more.

"You can tell her tonight at dinner, then," he told her lightly before pausing. His lips involuntarily twisted, as though tasting something sour, before he said, "He really did mean well, Tris, even if he made an absolute mess of things." Briar couldn't have kept all the spite out of the last part. Giving Keth even as much credit as he had was hard for some reason, deserve it though he might. The ex-thief stuffed those thoughts aside and focused on the pale woman beside him.

"I know," Tris agreed, shaking her head slightly as her eyes closed. "I still can't believe...I need to marry someone, and he shows up not two months later ready and willing."

"Perhaps, it's a good thing he didn't." The words were out before Briar realized what he was saying, and he immediately regretted them as hurt blossomed on Tris' face.

"Why?" The word was spoken in a small voice before she added with forced laughter, "I would think you would have preferred it that way."

Again, the plant mage's mouth was off before his mind had fully engaged, and he heard himself saying candidly, "Despite your constant attempts to convince me otherwise, I don't mind being married to you in the least. Aside from one relatively minor hang-up, I could easily do this for the rest of my life. I am unlikely to find anyone else who makes such good cookies and gives such good head scratches and is pleasant to sleep next to every night. Do you know how many women snore? Far more than admit to it, that's for sure." He looked away as he felt his face heat slightly, but it was true, mostly. He didn't mind being married to Tris, and it did have many advantages he enjoyed.

Her snort of disbelief was loud, and he glanced over to see her eyes equally unconvinced. "And that's what's most important in life?" she asked flatly. "Cookies and scratches and sleeping well versus the...hang up?"

"Eventually, the hang up stops happening for most people anyway, but cookies and scratches and sleeping well don't," he told her honestly, somehow aware that levity would not make things better in this instance. "I'm taking the long view here and concerning myself with that, which pretty much makes you the perfect wife."

She flushed bright red, eyes dropping to her lap, and he smiled, pleased with himself. "I don't believe you," she told him in a small voice, refusing to look up. "But I'm too tired to argue right now. Why shouldn't I have married Keth?"

Briar held up a finger as he said, "First, his age."

"Immaterial," Tris replied, settling in for a good debate. "It would be an arrangement like ours, so age wouldn't matter."

The comparison was not one the plant mage liked. "It's still strange," he said stubbornly. "He was literally twice your age when you met, which was nearly old enough to be your father, and he's still half your age now older than you. In ten or fifteen years it may not matter, but right now it does." Quickly, before she could reply, he went on to, "Number two, you wouldn't live here anymore."

"Briar, there is a chance we're not all going to stay in Emelan," his companion pointed out mildly. "Any of us may choose to travel again, or move somewhere else for a time for learning or obligation. We'll still be a circle, regardless of where we go."

He nodded slowly. "You're right, but just because we can doesn't mean we should. Besides, that brings me to three: he wants to be the Empresses' royal glassmaker, you told me that was his goal from the beginning. Now that he's got lightning to play with, I'd say he has good odds. Or better than before at any rate. So either you'd have to ask him to give up that dream or put yourself back in her reach without the rest of us to help. She's already tripped you down one flight of stairs-" He stopped himself from saying more, but the conclusion wasn't difficult to follow. Keth wouldn't be able to protect her, not with his own magic or his family name, not if the empress decided to attack.

Tris grew very still for a time, mulling it over as she considered his words. Finally, she answered grudgingly, "Ok, that is a valid point. Any other objections?"

"I think he's a little afraid of you," Briar said gently, "And I don't think that's a good trait in a husband."

"What do you mean?" she asked, the flatness of her words meant to hide the hurt underneath.

Briar wasn't fooled but went on carefully, "I don't think he'd stand up to you, if you were really angry or upset. Your student/teacher relationship means you aren't equals, which is how it it should be, but you wouldn't be equals in marriage either. I don't think that's healthy."

"Lots of people are afraid of me," Tris said with a complacency he did not believe. "Even you said watching me play with my braids makes you nervous."

"It makes me nervous _for_ you, not of you," he corrected her firmly. "That's different."

Her chin thrust forward defensively, arms hugged to her middle. "I'm in control," she insisted stubbornly.

"I know you are," Briar said as he gently took one arm and pulled her closer to him. She didn't fight, even as she refused to look at his face. "You have better control of your abilities than anyone I know. But I still worry about you. I don't know what I- what we would do, if we lost you." His hand traced down her arm as he spoke, lacing his fingers with hers when he reached her hand. The thought of not having that hand to hold for some reason made his heart ache, and he squeezed it gently in response to the pain in his chest.

It was amazing, Tris thought, how good Briar was at derailing her. His hand squeezing hers made warmth blossom in her chest and cheeks, and she kept her eyes firmly to the side as she could find nothing to say.

"He meant well," the plant mage repeated softly when the silence began to stretch. "But I still think it's better this way." Obviously, because Briar would be able to let go when the need for marriage was past and would actually help Tris find someone, if she wanted. He was just a better choice than Keth, that was all. And since he had been the one to marry Tris, he had nothing to be jealous about, at all. He wished someone would tell the roiling knot of thorns in his gut that. "Are you ready to go home?" he asked eventually, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Yes, I'm ready," she agreed, and together they went downstairs.

-090-

Lark watched Rosethorn carefully as the dedicate laboriously labeled the infusions that had strained overnight.

"You knew," she said when her partner finally glanced in her direction with a quizzical look. "You knew and you said nothing."

"I suspected," Rosethorn replied evenly with a slight shrug. "That there might be a possibility. I didn't _know_ anything, and I didn't want to say anything, in case I was mistaken."

The pause that followed was punctuated by the sound of Rosethorn's quill back at work. "Do you think she loves him too?" Lark finally asked, sitting on one of the stools as she watched the master plant mage at work.

"I suspect that it is also possible." The words were spoken absently, and Lark patiently waited until her lover had finished the work to finish her thought. Pen set down and ink bottle stoppered, her companion finally added, "We discussed this when they were younger."

"Yes, but then he came back from his travels with an appetite for company," the other cottage mother said unhappily. "And not a healthy one, either. I hadn't expected..."

"Maybe we should have. His mother was a prostitute, and then, he lived on the streets for half a decade," Rosethorn said as though stating the obvious. "His views on sexual relations would have been formed at an early age in that environment."

"A fair point," Lark sighed.

"And I think Yanjing probably had a great deal to do with that as well." The words were spoken quietly, with a faint tremor underneath. Lark laid a hand on Rosethorn's shoulder, and the shorter woman shook her head slightly. "No, I'm...I'm alright. But you are right, I thought it unlikely after our return as well. They were both so very different."

"And all four refused to rejoin their bond." That had been one of the hardest blows to bear for the teachers and foster mothers. Oh, the joining had made raising the four from child to adulthood a trial, at times. Unable to say something to one without the other three finding out (except for Tris, and then only sometimes) and never knowing what trouble they were cooking up together in their minds. Sending them to separate rooms was not a punishment when they could speak across the length of the city, if need be. But it had also been the best support and seeing them refuse to use it, as though it would make them less of an adult, had been a hard thing to watch.

"I regretted deciding to travel, then," Rosethorn admitted softly. "Maybe, it would have been better to stay home, to keep them safe."

"We needed to separate them," Lark replied, her usual response to an old argument. "The healer said the bond could cause problems if we kept them together during that time of growth. They may not have been able to keep their minds separate, even with the weavings Sandry worked to block off their magic. They needed the time apart to grow as individuals."

"I know." The sigh that came with those words was heavy with regret. "Are you angry with me, love?" Rosethorn finally asked, looking up at her partner of many years.

"No, only disappointed." Lark's smile was genuine, and the corners of her companion's lips rose slightly in response. "I do hope it works out. If they had children, it would be like having grandchildren for us." The way the stitch witch's eyes sparkled at the thought only made Rosethorn smile all the more.

"Yes," she agreed as they embraced. "I suppose it would."

-090-

Valden and Darra spent their day in the most productive manner, pursuing merchant business. The head of the Chandler clan had multiple contacts and contracts with people in Emelan, but he had never met most of them in person and those that he had had been in Ninver. Visiting those contacts here gave him additional insights into some and helped strengthen ties with others. It had also terminated a contract he hadn't realized was price-gouging him, and he had been quick to set up a replacement with the competitor down the road. There would hardly be a bump in his scheduled deliveries, and he would be saving several silver astrals a year, if he was any judge. A cousin had set up the contract initially, and the family head already had made a note to have a meeting with the man when they returned home.

The housekeeper met them at the front door like usual, but instead of simply a bow and inquiry of what they required, she informed them they had visitors waiting in the garden. Master Goldeye had already received them earlier, before leaving on an errand. No, he would not be joining them for dinner, but the guests had been invited to remain as the Master imagined they would have a great deal to discuss.

Valden's curiosity grew with each step as they approached the doors to the garden, though he was certain there was nothing that could truly surprise him after all they had seen and heard these last two weeks or so. Rounding the corner to discover his youngest son and his son's teacher seated on the veranda, he found he was wrong.

"Thomas!" he cried as he grinned broadly, the boy jumping to his feet to meet his parents halfway. "What in Mila's name are you doing here?" His embrace was gruff as he squeezed his son tightly for a moment before passing the lad on to his mother. "And Master Warder, it is a pleasure to see you, even if it is unexpected." Keth accepted the hand thrust enthusiastically in his direction, clasping it firmly, though he did not respond with his usual exuberance. Valden was too pleased to see his son to give it much notice. "What has brought you and our son all the way out to Emelan? We weren't expecting to see either of you for at least another year!"

"Master Keth came to propose to someone," Thomas popped in with a chuckle. "But she's already married, and he's been a complete bear to be around ever since." Keth glared at the boy half-heartedly but shrugged and nodded when Valden glanced his way.

"Be nice," Darra said as she gripped her son's ear warningly. "You may be old enough to be an apprentice, but I will still tan your hide for disrespect young man!"

The young man winced and immediately replied, "Yes, ma. Sorry, Master Warder."

Valden couldn't quite hide his chuckle as the glassmaker flushed with embarrassment and mumbled his acceptance of the apology. "It is true," Keth admitted grudgingly. "Although, I'm more upset that I didn't see it coming than that it happened. She would always talk about him, my teacher, so I shouldn't be surprised."

"Your teacher? She's here in the city?" Darra asked, interest lighting her eyes. "Isn't she also a lightning mage? I wonder if she knows Trisana, lightning mages are likely similar to weather mages, correct?"

"In this case, they are, in fact, one and the same," Keth replied weakly. "Including my teacher and your daughter. I was coming to propose to Tris."

The silence that followed was like being hit with a lightning bolt. Everything seemed to freeze as all three stared at him. It was Thomas who finally broke the spell.

"Your teacher is _my sister?_ " he cried in excitement. "But-...but you said she can scry on the wind! And handle molten rock! And _fly!_ " He paused on for a quick breath before adding hopefully, "Do you think she would take me for a ride?"

His parents' reaction was less pleased. After exchanging a single, dark glance, the pair were in agreement.

"Thomas, I think you should go talk with your mother," Master Chandler said as his wife gripped their son's arm in a way that brooked no protests. "Tell her about your trip here, and what the ship was like. She likes ships, for some unfathomable reason."

The boy considered protesting (he had a great many questions ready to burst forth), until he saw the look in his father's eyes. Then, he gladly turned and left the gardens with his mother.

"You," Valden Chandler said as he turned slowly towards the mage as soon as his wife and son were out of sight. "Explain yourself. _Now_." The last word was just short of a snarl.

And so Keth did. In his head, he had it all planned out, but somehow, it didn't come out that way. His mouth began with when he first met Tris and accidentally created a glass dragon named Chime who later became her pet. He then jumped to the reason he had lightning in the first place, the storm that had caught him on the edge of the Sith and struck him with lightning as he tried to flee. Then he moved to his first experience with lightning after that fact, and how he had realized it was no longer a danger to him, well, not in the same way it was to everyone else. Somewhere in there, he explained bits and pieces of meeting Tris, Niko, and Little Bear, and how Tris had taken in Glaki when her foster-mother was also murdered. Oh, and there was the hunt for the murderer, and Tharios and it's ridiculous customs involving death and magic. And Tris caught the murderer, but that it was his lightning balls that predicted the future that made it possible for him to be caught in the first place. And he had made other things with lightning and glass too, but that without Tris, who had taught him to untangle the lightning inside himself, he never could have been a Master glassmaker at all.

Valden finally stopped him, shaking his head slowly as he tried to sort through the deluge of facts and bit of information that had spewed forth from Keth's mouth.

"Let me get this straight," he said carefully as he began ticked points off on his fingers. "You were struck by lightning and lived, but it messed up your magic and glassmaking skills." That he had learned before, so it seemed a safe place to start.

"Yes." Keth's reply was immediate and showed his attention had finally snapped back into place.

"You...went to Tharios?" This Valden also knew, but it seemed prudent to keep events as linear as possible. It was obvious the glassmaker was still nervous, and he wanted to keep the tall man on track.

"Yes," his son's master agreed quickly, adding, "It was that or be demoted from Journeyman, when my skills did not recover from the lightning strike."

That the merchant had not known, and his brows rose in surprise. It was rare to hear of someone being stripped of a rank in their craft, once it had been earned. "Alright. There you...made a glass dragon and met Tris?" This, he was less certain of, but it seemed the best fit, after the mad mess that had spewed from his companion earlier.

"Yes." Again, a prompt response, and Valden was encouraged. Then Keth said, "It wasn't a good first meeting, but we got past it. Eventually. I was...I wasn't quite myself."

"And Tris helped you." It was all the weather witch's father could think to say.

"Oh, yes. I was desperate at that point, and Niko said she was the only one who could help." His grimace was not feigned, and as he went on, his companion could see why. "Believe me, it was hard trusting in a fourteen year old girl."

"She was _fourteen_?" Valden cried in disbelief. "Children can't be teachers, can they?"

Keth's wry grin was full of understanding. "Yes and yes. And what's more, she'd been an accredited mage for almost a year at that point."

"Shurri Firesword defend me..." Valden rubbed his face with his hands for a moment before continuing. "They said they earned their medallions young, I suppose I just didn't quite believe them. Where was I...right. She helped you."

"Taught me and, through that, helped me," the tall man qualified carefully. "I was her first student. Glaki kind of became her second, though she was technically too young to actually begin training."

"Did she teach you well?" The question stemmed more from curiosity than relevance.

"When I was willing to listen." The grin turned rueful as Keth recalled their first days together. "I was a hard-headed student, sometimes. I was very sure that she couldn't always be right, being so young. I, eventually, learned better. And technically, she still is my teacher. The relationship in the mage community is different from a usual master and apprentice, even though I am now an accredited mage myself and subject to the laws of the mage council."

With some difficulty, Valden turned his thoughts back to the story. "And during all this there was someone murdering people, I gather."

The glassmaker nodded, explaining, "A man, killing specific women with knotted yellow scarves around the neck. He was using the practices of the Tharian people to hide his tracks and doing it well. We would not have caught him so soon without Tris. If he had ever been caught at all."

"How did she catch him?" the merchant asked hoarsely, his mouth going dry at the thought.

"She went hunting for him, using her winds," Keth said calmly, adding, "Oh, and Little Bear was with her."

The name was familiar, but a specific person did not come to mind. "Who is Little Bear, again?"

"A dog. He's passed away since then."

"Oh. Right." Valden couldn't help the razor wit that came through his words. "She went hunting a murderer, alone, except for a dog." Keth laughed, and the merchant had to fight the urge not to deck him between the eyes. His companion seemed to sense it and immediately grew quiet.

"Trust me, sir; she was fine," he said in what was meant to be a reassuring tone. "It was the murderer we ran to save. She might have killed him, otherwise, and Master Niko said they would have had to try her for murder, if she had."

"Was she...careless?" The older man wasn't sure how to frame the question he was trying to ask, but Keth seemed to understand. He shook his head.

"Oh, no, in fact, I would say she was in complete control of the situation..." He said with a wry smile. "She had him caught in a blind alley and buried him up past his waist in the road. We got there before she hit him with a bolt of lightning. He deserved it; I personally knew two of the women he had killed, but it wouldn't have been justice."

The silence that followed remained for some time. Keth seemed to have finally run out of words with the end of the story, and Valden too busy trying to digest them to supply his own. Eventually, the merchant did speak, his voice low as he eyed the taller, younger man.

"Did you know that she was our daughter?"

The master glassmaker looked away but said, "At first, I only suspected. It was Gareth who tipped me off, when I visited with my father. I was looking at a portrait the second time we dined with you and wondered who the little redheaded girl who wasn't around was. He told me she was gone, and that her name was Tris."

"And you still said nothing." The words were heavy with accusation, and Keth flushed under the merchant's steady gaze.

"Tris only mentioned you once," he said carefully. "It was...she said you weren't good with broken things. And the implication was that she was broken. I...admired her greatly, by the end of our travels together two years before. Not admiration like a suitor, but...I was very proud to be her student. She was smart and creative and able to do so many amazing things. I knew we had a contract with a Chandler family in Capchen, but I had no idea if it was hers. Business is business, though, so when my father insisted we meet, I obeyed. You were...not what I was expecting."

Valden's lips thinned as he said almost to himself, "You were expecting monsters."

"No, but unpleasant people, yes." The admission came slowly, and the man hurried to add, "You weren't. Unpleasant, I mean, but you were ignorant in the ways of magic. The little that I could do astounded your family, and it became obvious that it is rarely seen in your bloodline. Which, in turn, explained how Tris' gifts were...misinterpreted. For a long time, I didn't want to like you. Taking Thomas as my apprentice is what really changed my mind, though. He is so much like his sister. So...good, and honest and hardworking. And I thought that if you made a daughter and a son who ended up being so wonderful, how could you possibly be bad people?"

"Tris needed to know that too; she needed to reconcile with her family, and I think you needed to know that she wasn't mad or possessed. That she was safe and happy and respected and admired by people."

Valden nodded his understanding, saying, "So you encouraged us to go get her. I thought you were nosing in a bit where you weren't wanted, when you gave your opinion so freely." The last was said with a raised brow, but Keth only grinned.

"I know," he admitted simply. "Do you wish that I had not?"

"No, I do not." The sigh that came was full of frustration. "But now I find myself in a quandary," he said as he fixed Keth with a piercing look before asking softly. "Why did Briar marry Tris so suddenly?"

"Because he loves her, and she him." The answer was immediate and firm, more so than Master Chandler had expected.

"And that's the truth," he said, keeping his eyes firmly on the glass mage's.

"Yes," Keth replied steadily. And it was.

"Hm," Valden snorted, shaking his head as he turned away. "I wish I were as convinced as you." He paused, then turned back towards his visitor as he said, "I would not have been displeased to have you has a son-in-law Master Warder, even if you were using dishonesty of a kind against me. I can see why you did. She helped you, and you acted out of gratitude for that help."

"She saved me," Keth replied quietly. "And I really would do anything to help her."

"Then we will speak no more of this, either the past or the present predicament." Or, Valden added to himself, ask who you would support between us and her. It was obvious who the man would choose, if he did. Who he had already chosen.

"Thank you." The reply was full of relief, and Keth straightened as though having shed a heavy burden from his back.

"How long will you and Thomas be here?" Master Chandler asked, deciding it was time to speak of something else.

"A week, maybe two. We will tour the local glassmakers and learn from their techniques. I am fairly certain ours are superior, but..." He shrugged with a crooked grin. "After seeing a fourteen year old redhead boss around people three times her age and be listened to because she's _right_ , you learn to have an open mind."

"A wise lesson learned."

"Are we still invited to stay for dinner?" The question was asked hesitantly, but Valden could hear the offer behind it. Keth would leave if asked, if the Chandlers needed time away from him in the wake of his news.

"Of course," Valden said with an honest smile. He would not treat his son's Master so. "This is Master Goldeye's home, and he invited you. I could no more uninvite you than I could add to the guest list. Besides, we haven't seen our son in almost six months. I'm sure he has stories to tell, and we will want a full report on his progress." He turned towards the door that lead inside, and Master Warder followed with a quick step.

"It will be my honor."

-090-

Briar drove on the way back, and they spoke little until they reached the walls of the city once more.

"I won't press it, if you don't want me to," he said softly as he glanced at his silent companion. "But you never said you had siblings, and you know it's going to come up once the girls hear Keth brought his apprentice, and he's your brother."

The statement was open-ended, not exactly a question or a request for an explanation but simply an opening that Tris could respond to however she liked. He thought that what she had chosen the option to not respond when silence continued to reign between them. But he never betrayed his shock when she suddenly spoke up.

"There isn't much to tell," she said as she rubbed at the bridge of her nose under her glasses. "I was sent away around my fifth birthday, and I can't even really remember what they looked like, let alone what they were like as children. And I didn't _want_ to remember them. They had what I wanted, and sometimes, I hated them for that. It wasn't fair. They couldn't control it anymore than I, but I still did. Beyond that...Gareth, I think, is the name of the oldest. Leigh was the youngest. And the girl...was Ellana? Elsie? Ell-...Ellwyn. Gareth and Ellwyn and Leigh and Thomas." The names felt strange in her mouth, and Tris tried not to grimace as she avoided Briar's glance.

Casually, he slung an arm about her shoulders and pulled her close. Usually, she grumbled at him for doing so when he didn't have to for appearance's sake, but today she just sighed and let him. "I think, if you tell the girls that, they'll understand," he said simply, leaning his head against hers for a moment. "I know I do."

Acceptance. It flowed along the bond between them, and Tris let it wash over her as she leaned against his embrace. Nothing more was said until they reached the house to find Niko waiting for them in the front with his carriage.

"This is unexpected," Briar said as he hopped down before walking around to help Tris from her seat.

"So was Kethlun Warder's arrival," the great mage said dryly. "He is at my house, waiting to speak with your parents. I wanted to remain, but it is likely they would have asked me to leave the room anyways that they might speak privately...how certain are you that he'll keep the truth to himself? He told me you told him, Briar."

"Niko," Tris said, clearly annoyed as her feet touched the ground. "This is Keth, and you of all people would have known if he was lying."

"He wasn't," the thin mage admitted with a frown as he stroked his mustache, "but things have been going so well, and I don't want anything to happen that might mess them up."

"Well, he's the reason we're putting on this show," Briar said dryly. "The least he can do is help."

"That is true, I suppose..."

"He can be trusted, Niko," Tris said simply, meeting her teacher's gaze with her own. "You wouldn't have let him travel with us, if he hadn't been."

"Did he tell you about his apprentice?" The great mage asked the question absently, as though it were of no great import. His student didn't miss the way he watched her out of the corner of his eye, though.

"Yes, he did." Tris replied dryly. "It is so nice of my parents to tell me about my new siblings, to go with the ones I already had that haven't been mentioned either." She paused afterwards, a faint flush creeping up her cheeks. Finally, she added, "I suppose that isn't fair, given how things have gone so far, but I don't feel particularly fair today."

"I don't think anyone will blame you for that," Niko said with an understanding smile.

"I suppose I shall have to meet him," the weather witch went on reluctantly, frowning to herself. "Eventually. It would be rude not to, wouldn't it?

"As he is your student's student, yes, I should think so," her teacher replied, stroking his mustache. "However reluctant you might feel about it, you should speak to Thomas and get to know him. Befriend him if you can, even." Niko's words were more serious than his student expected, and she gave the older man a blank look. "Especially you, Briar. Things have been going fairly well, but there were enough unknown variables in this before Keth arrived. Do not underestimate the power of the youngest child in persuading their parents. They are usually the best at it." His grin that followed said there was a story attached to those words. Briar wished he had time to hear it; the grin also promised it was a good one.

"We could invite them over tomorrow," he said instead, handing the reins to Rod as the man finally appeared, and giving the donkey a pat to send it on its way. "Your parents, Keth and Thomas, I mean. It's our home, so we'd run the show. And if your cookies fresh out of the oven don't win over your brother, he's a lost cause."

Tris rolled her eyes at that, but there was a smile creeping up at the edge of her mouth. "We'll need to speak to Daja first," she reminded him, and he nodded.

"Right, but I don't think she'll mind. We can send a note over after dinner, if she's ok with it." And by his stance, it was already a foregone conclusion that she would be.

"Good, let me know if you require anything further from me. Hopefully, Keth and Thomas will be on their way again soon, perhaps taking the Chandlers with them. Wouldn't that be a happy turn of events!" Master Goldeye ended on a note of sarcasm, but he kissed Tris on the cheek with a smile, patted Briar on the shoulder and ascended into his carriage without delay. The horses were in motion before either could wave goodbye.

The pair walked inside together, though Briar didn't protest when Tris let go of his arm as soon as the door closed behind him. He didn't have a reason to feel like it was wrong, he told himself as the dust of the road was washed off and brushed away. Daja was waiting for them in the dining room, and as soon as they were seated, Sandry came in from the back.

It was Briar who brought up Keth's arrival as they settled into the meal and then revealed Tris' siblings. She hadn't asked him to do so, but he hadn't needed her ask to know how difficult it would be for her to broach the topic herself. And he was right; after Tris explained, they understood. The scheme for visitors the next day was agreed to by Daja, though she admitted she would be unable to attend herself. She had promised a delivery to a noble just outside of town.

Also in accordance with Tris' wishes, Briar did not bring up the thwarted marriage proposal. The fact that it still made his stomach roil to think of Keth's declaration had nothing to do with it. He was just happy to spare her feelings as a good husband should be.

A note was dispatched after dinner, and the reply received soon afterwards. The Chandlers were coming to visit with their son Thomas and his teacher, Master Warder, right after the 10th bell. It was going to be a busy day.

-090-

Author's Notes:

Hey guys! Hope everyone is having a good summer thus far.

The Bargain: This is the last chapter I am offering the Bargain for right now. The fact is, reviews are not coming in. Like, this chapter go 2. And technically, it only got 1 because the second review was for an earlier chapter. So, the bargain stands at 20 reviews to immediately receive the next chapter. If we don't hit it this week, or at least come close, I will be doing something different in the next chapter. It is something I really don't want to do, but I kind of feel like you guys have backed me into a corner on this. We'll see what happens next week.

Thanks for the few of you who are actually reviewing, you are awesome :)

Until next time,

~CB~


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Keth and Thomas had returned to Niko's home early the next morning, meeting Valden and Darra for breakfast before traveling together to No. 6 Cheeseman Street. The invitation the evening before had been unexpected, but welcome in light of Master Warder and his apprentice's unanticipated arrival. The carriage Niko provided was waiting when they were ready to leave, and the four boarded it together with a sense of eagerness. The driver knew the city well, and soon, they were pulling up at their destination.

Keth had to admit he was impressed. The house was three stories of a locally made red brick and boasted lovely plantwork along its front walkway and around the corner of the house to the back. Even from here, he could see the space was overflowing with green leaves and winding paths. Briar's work, of course, just like the ornamental ironwork that adorned each window and the front door was likely Daja's. A hunch made him pull out a glass lens from his pocket and hold it briefly over his left eye. The house and its grounds blazed with magic, most of it the passive sort he expected in a residence attached to a forge (there would be no uncontrolled blazes from an accidental spark here), but there were more he did not recognize. Tris' work, likely, or Briar's. He couldn't distinguish between different people's work the way Tris could, but his lens could be used by anyone with a touch of magic themselves. A useful tool that the police-mages of Tharios still purchased from him alone.

A tinkling hum from above announced Chime's arrival before she could quite be seen against the blue sky. Light played softly against her supple limbs, and she seemed not quite real as she hovered over them. Daintily, she landed on Keth's outstretched hand and eyed him with obvious disdain.

"I know, beauty," he said quietly as he ran a finger under her chin. "I forgot to bring you a treat. I will next time, promise."

"What," Valden Chandler breathed through thin lips. "Is that?"

"This," Keth said as he turned towards them carefully. "Is Chime. She is a glass dragon with bones of lightning." The recalcitrant creature preened under their awestruck gazes, a queen deigning to notice her rightful servants. Rolling his eyes, the glass maker continued. "I made her, on accident, as I believe I mentioned yesterday. Now, she belongs to Tris because I admittedly tried to break her, and she has never quite forgiven me for it. I wasn't thinking very clearly at the time."

The rumors, then had been partially true. Valden recalled the ride to the beach where he had been told the fantastical tale of a glass dragon that guarded a great weapon or treasure for the four mages. For some reason, he had not remembered it when Keth had mentioned her the day before. Here, before him, the truth came to light. Chime was only a little larger than your average housecat, and most of that was in her length and her wings. That did not diminish her presence, though.

"She's gorgeous!" Thomas sighed as he reached forward hesitantly, gasping in pleasure when the creature reached towards his fingers and used the appendages to hop to his arm. The boy was as careful as though holding a babe, keeping his arms gingerly still as he turned to his parents with pride. "Look! She's letting me hold her!"

"Is she safe for him to hold?" Darra asked quietly as she stepped back a pace.

"As safe as any other creature, yes," Keth replied with a grin. "She's too vain to hurt someone as thoroughly enthralled as he is. She may even recognize that he's related to Tris. We're not sure how much she understands of our language, but she is very intelligent and only occasionally temperamental."

"That is putting it lightly," Briar said as he stepped out the front door. Dressed in a dark green tunic with a crisp white undershirt and brown trews, he was more neatly made up than usual but not quite in his best. "Welcome, we were wondering when you would arrive. I hope you don't mind, Daja had a delivery to make this morning, so only Tris and I are home."

"We understand, business is business," Valden replied. "And where is Tris this morning?"

"In the gardens, seeing to the disposition of our refreshments," Briar replied with a smile. "It seemed too lovely a day to waste it sitting inside." The merchant agreed as a breeze took off the warmth of the morning, leaving them all feeling refreshed. It was probably one the last such days they would have before high summer set in.

"Food?" Thomas immediately looked up from the glass dragon at the mention of another meal, despite having eaten well at Master Niko's table that morning. Chime squawked impatiently when his hand on her back stilled, and the boy went back to his task quickly even as he looked at Briar with hopeful eyes.

"You must be Thomas," the plant mage said as he put a friendly hand on the boy's shoulder and steered him towards the path to the garden. "A pleasure to meet you, I'm Briar and I'm your new brother-in-law. Did you know, Thomas, that your sister makes the best cookies in the world?"

"In the world?" The boy was clearly skeptical, and Briar nodded solemnly.

"I have traveled far and wide and was even an honored guest once of the Emperor of Yanjing," the young man said, green-grey eyes dancing even as he kept his face serious. "Her cookies put his best foods to shame, and he, supposedly, has the finest cooks in his employ."

"Really?" The skepticism was replaced by awe, and the plant mage continued.

"Yes, really. And I've been to Namorn and dined with the Empress in her palace and even her cooks' couldn't make cookies quite as nice. They were very good, of course, just not as good as Tris's."

Thomas considered that, wondering if he had ever met anyone else who had dined with both the Emperor and the Empress of two different countries. "Did she make some for today?" he asked, curious despite still being unconvinced.

"I believe she made a fresh tray this morning, just for you."

His eyes lit up, and Briar was certain the boy was sold. No one with half a tongue or brain could dislike Tris' cookies, and every ally they had would help.

"I cannot decide if this is kindness or brilliant maneuvering," Darra murmured to her husband as they followed along behind.

"Ignoring us for the boy?" Valden replied, admiring the graceful vines intertwined overhead as they passed through another arched trellis.

"Yes. He seems to like Briar and say that it sticks. Would you want to be the one to explain to him that we're breaking up the marriage, if something goes wrong?" His wife's voice lowered with each word, and by the end, she had his full attention once more. He paused, letting Keth pass them as he turned towards her.

"Ah, and with what he may write to his siblings..." Their son had always been known for being a bit of a sensationalist with the way he told stories. And for being an avid correspondent since he had left home to start his apprenticeship. He would write to his brothers and sisters and favorably too most likely. "I can see what you mean. We shall have to see, Briar just may have a soft spot for growing boys and their bottomless bellies." Valden spoke the words, even though he didn't believe them.

"Maybe," Darra said, but it was clear she didn't either. Both stopped as they stepped out into the main yard.

The gardens were a good deal larger than had been apparent from the front, wrapping around the house and spreading out in a hidden space between four other walled yards that met at odd angles. Most of it was taken up with various beds of flowers and shrubs, neatly arranged but not rigid in its presentation. One single spreading oak tree sat in the center, far enough away from the house that it didn't threaten it. A vegetable patch was planted along the back of the house as was an herb garden. Darra recognized some of the plants as being native to her homeland, Capchen, and wondered how they had come to be in this garden. Tucked to one side, almost hidden from sight, was a single, long row of roses of various colors and kinds. The paths between the beds were of stone pressed flat with the ground and even the beds themselves are decorated with stones of various sizes and colors at seemingly random intervals.

As a whole, it gave an air of relaxed order in which everything was in its place without being rigid or formal. Shrubs and flowers alike looked natural, and yet nothing seemed overrun or out of order. Valden could not help but be impressed. The easier something looked, the harder it generally was in his experience. Idly, he wondered what it would cost to bring Briar to Capchen and have him work on his own gardens for a season or two. Darra did love to entertain, and their own small garden was not nearly as lovely. And, of course, if he remained married to Tris, he would likely give Valden a decent discount...it was something to consider.

Tris was on the far side of the lone oak, putting out a final platter on a small table laden with similar plates and bowls and all of them filled with food. The fare was simple, much to Thomas' relief and his parents' appreciation. Sliced fruits that were in season, and hard cheeses with fresh bread. A plate of pastries and two of cookies, and three jugs with chilled juice, tea and water respectively.

Chime took flight as soon as Tris was in sight, twining affectionately around her owner's shoulders and chirping in bell-line tones. The young woman smiled reflexively, and she seemed to relax as the creature settled against her neck. Thomas was suddenly shy, staring at someone who was familiar and yet not. He knew her face, had studied it as a child as he had tried to imagine what his other sister might be like. His mind had not thought far enough. Her braids were strange, almost Trader-like in their complexity even tucked in a snood, and the fact that she wore plain spectacles and a dress that was unadorned, if well-tailored, did not sit well with the stories he had heard of her powers. Mages were supposed to be different; she looked completely ordinary.

The glass dragon turning to face him made Thomas change that assessment. Almost ordinary, he decided as Keth stepped past him to hug the plump redhead. His sister accepted the gesture, but kept her eyes on her brother as though searching for something in his face.

"Come on," Master Warder said when he turned to see what Tris was looking at and realized the boy had paused. "She won't think you like her, if you act like that."

"I'll think no such thing," Tris replied quickly, giving her former student a dark look, even if she had to look up to do it. "You shouldn't tease him like that, Keth."

"He's my apprentice," the tall man said with feigned indignance. "I'll tease him how I want." Thomas couldn't help it; he laughed.

"My name is Thomas," he said as he stepped forward slightly. "It's nice to meet you." He only hesitated a moment before hugging Tris, and it only took a moment more for her to hug him back.

"Hello Thomas," she said with a small smile when he stepped back again. "I'm Tris."

"Your brothers and sisters are going to be jealous," Darra said as she came to claim a hug of her own. "Being the first to see Tris, after all these years." Chime chirped at the older woman, who started back in surprise as she'd forgotten the glass dragon was still twined about Tris' neck.

"Easy, Chime," Tris said, putting a hand to the creature absently. "Don't mind her; she's quite harmless, most of the time." Tapping the dragon on the snout, she added, "Your bowls are over there, Chime. Don't spill them when you eat." Chime snorted, as though the reminder was insulting, and winged lightly over to smaller table with various bowls of coloring agents, sand, and other things Darra couldn't identify.

"She's...well, I'm not quite sure what she is," her mother said as she watched the semi-transparent creature mantle her wings and settle in to eat. "Beautiful, certainly, but also alarmingly intelligent."

"Yes, she is," Tris agreed with a small, fond smile. "There's still a great deal we don't know about her, such as how she was created. Keth made her, and I watched, but it is nothing short of a miracle his fumbling resulted in her and not something...else."

"Something else?" Valden asked, watching as Briar introduced Thomas to the aforementioned cookies. If the boy's expression was anything to go by, they were quite good. He would have to try them himself, before his son made them all disappear.

"Imagine a blind man with no training sculpting with clay," the weather witch said after a moment of thought. "He may, by luck, sculpt something of beauty. More likely, it will simply be a mess. And with magic, messes generally translate into something unpleasant. At worst, he could have destroyed the shop and, perhaps, himself with it."

"I think I almost did, more than once," the glassmaker added ruefully as he snagged a cookie from Thomas' plate. The boy glared but did no more as he stuffed another in his mouth. "Uncontrolled magic is a terrible thing."

"Then, we are very thankful you found a teacher when you did," Darra said with a small smile in her son's direction. "Thomas, slow down! Other people may want to sample your sister's exceptional cookies."

"There is nothing special about them," Tris said as she rolled her eyes slightly, a faint flush of pleasure highlighting her cheeks. "And there are more in the house, if we need them."

"Don't listen to her," Briar said before Keth could argue. "She's an amazing cook and refuses to accept praise, so I tell everyone how good it is on her behalf." He did not have a chance to expound upon that subject, however, as Darra gasped softly. Turning to follow her gaze, the plant mage saw Chime, sitting neatly on her perch and...ah.

"Did you know," the young man said in a matter-of-fact tone, "That the glass Chime produces is almost completely unbreakable? Flames and...otherwise. It makes her...work very popular with parents looking for trinkets for their children."

"Really?" the merchant wife replied faintly, her skin paler than normal as she put a hand to her throat. "Are they aware that it is an...ah...excretion rather than a...flame?" Another perfect spiral of streaked glass plinked to the table from the dragon's rear.

"Technically," Tris replied softly, a rueful smile on her face, "The 'flames' are more of a vomit. And yes, there are people who know how they are produced and wish to purchase them anyways. For the rest, we say ignorance is bliss and try not to laugh when we see them wearing it in public."

"I see."

Valden had to admit he was impressed as they settled in the chairs and benches under the spreading shade of the young oak. Briar was an easy conversationalist, when he wished to be, and drew everyone into the light talk with time. The setting was simple, but the beautiful gardens around them were enough to rival any well-appointed room and the woven wicker furniture nearly as comfortable as well-padded chairs. The food was simple too but delicious and obviously made with quality ingredients. Even the vaunted cookies, he couldn't help taking a few more when the plate was passed around the circle time and again. He would, of course, have to tell his wife her's were better, if the jealous light in her eyes were any sign of her feelings when Thomas began to agree with Briar that they really were the best he'd ever had. She was particularly proud of her culinary skills, though she rarely used them anymore.

Darra, in her turn, was impressed by something else as she tried to ignore the desire to make cookies of her own at Master Niko's house that evening. First was how her daughter was able to draw Thomas into a lengthy discussion of his studies in glass. She was a journeyman herself and, therefore, had a deep understanding of the craft, but it was the way she listened that seemed to make the young man pour forth his triumphs and woes into her ready ear. The second had to do with Briar.

The young man was either very skilled at covering his jealousy of Keth's attention for his wife or simply an excellent host. She wasn't sure which, but she greatly admired the way he remained close to the redhead without ignoring their guests. And each time it appeared Keth was going to start her down a path of recollections in which the rest of them could have no part or a serious magical discussion that would baffle half the assembled party, Briar neatly maneuvered them to a different topic in which all could enjoy. One hand was almost always on Tris, resting on her back or touching one arm, which made her lean towards jealousy but was not conclusive in and of itself. The fact that her daughter was either oblivious to that touch or was too restrained to show affection in return was concerning, but that would have to wait.

An hour passed quickly, and soon, it was time for Keth and Thomas to be off for their next appointment with Valden along to be their guide. Tris was internally debating if it would be best to return to her own work or help the staff put the garden back to rights when her mother asked if they might have a word in private. She agreed and, after seeing the rest of the guests off at the front, merely had to decide where the conversation was to happen.

Tris took her mother to her library, deciding it was the most private room that was also comfortable without being imposing. The office seemed too official and the front room too open. She wasn't sure what Darra wished to discuss and having one of the others stumble in on it didn't seem like a good idea. Her mother, in turn, didn't mind the jaunt up two flights of stairs and enjoyed spying out what she could of the house as they went. She had to admit, she was impressed. The house was clean and well-tended, decorated with an obvious mix of styles and preferences that didn't detract from each other.

Chime joined them, settling herself in Tris' lap with a contented sigh. Her distended stomach swirled with the colors of the agents Thomas had delighted in feeding her once he had realized she would take them from the palm of his hand. Her mother watched, more in fascination than revulsion now, as a trio of flames were spewed forth and Tris caught them in her hand. The weather witch tucked them away in a bowl to one side and motioned for her mother to sit.

Darra took the opposite chair, looking about the small, shelf-lined room with a smile. "Also a book-lover, like me, then," she said with approval as she straightened her skirts. "Are all of these yours?"

"Most of them," Tris agreed with a slight shrug. It was strange, she had expected bringing her mother here would feel like an intrusion. Instead, it felt natural. "The others store their books here too; anything on the study of magic we will all likely use at some point and books for entertainment are shared so we can all enjoy them. I keep some in my workroom, but only what I need right now."

"Do you intend to share the gift Briar got for you on the recommendation of your father?" The question was asked with perfect innocence, but the weather witch did not miss the way her companion watched her carefully.

She blushed; it was impossible not to remembering that equally innocent looking leather-bound book, and swallowed before saying, "No. That will stay in our room."

The pleased smile that bloomed on her mother's face made Tris feel bad she had ever considered destroying the gift. Still, she did not wish to discuss it further, and motioned to the wrapped packaged the merchant wife had in her lap. "You have something to show me?" she asked, hoping she was not jumping from the pot into the fire.

Darra seemed startled, glancing down before she recalled the original reason for her visit. "Ah, yes. Well, Thomas' arrival made me remember that we had brought this to show to you. It was...it was made with the intention that, if you could not recall us or any of the rest of your family, we could be reintroduced to you slowly through pictures."

"You mean if I were mad or possessed." The words were spoken calmly and without judgement, but Mistress Chandler's mouth twisted down as though they had. Tris stared at her mother and found herself asking the question that had nagged at the back of her mind for weeks now. "Would you have really taken me home if I had been mad?"

"Yes. Or at least we would have tried." The admission was spoken with a quiet honesty that made something in Tris' chest crack. "We have many arrangements in place for as many possibilities as we could think of. Rooms in the house or a separate house nearby, if you could not stand to be with everyone else. We had interviewed nurses and caretakers who had experience handling those who were mad, even found doctors who specialized in helping those with diseases of the mind. We were going to try everything, to make you a part of our lives again."

"I still don't understand," Tris replied so full of mixed emotions she didn't know if the sting in her eyes was from sadness or joy or the pain her chest from grief or pleasure. "Why did you wait so long? Any of this, you could have attempted it years ago. Why _now_?"

"At first, because of the family." It was guilt, Tris realized as she watched her mother's shoulders seem to sag under an unseen weight. Guilt, thick and heavy, that pressed so hard on the older woman's frame she barely seemed to breath. "It's not a good excuse, but it is the truth. Your great uncle, a very superstitious man, was the head of the family at the time. Keeping you would have meant your father would have fewer opportunities to advance in the business. Your siblings would be shunned from family events, and perhaps, even kept from joining the business themselves. Eventually, we saw no other choice, if we wished to remain a part of things. No one else in the family would support us against him, after a time, and we could not afford the expensive care we thought you would need if we were cut off completely."

"Then, when your great uncle retired, it was because of the temple, our contract with them. We had originally intended for you only to be gone for perhaps three or five years. Enough time in which your great-uncle could retire and we could perhaps gain the support we needed to bring you back home. It was the temple who advised us against this. Your 'coming of age' years, as they put it, could be extremely difficult. It would be better to get you safely past them, almost into adulthood, before we saw you again. Your twentieth birthday seemed a logical choice. We could have voided the contract, of course, but...we were afraid."

"Afraid that they were right?" Tris asked, her voice low.

"And afraid that they were wrong," Darra admitted, her voice breaking on the last word. Pausing, she strove to remaster herself before going on. "That you would be worse and unable to come home. They filled our minds with stories of what could go wrong if we brought you home too soon, and even years later we could not forget. I am ashamed to admit that we had almost decided not to come. Surely, if you were happy and content, if you were well cared for and your needs seen to...would it be crueler to leave you there, apart from us or to tear you away from what might have become your home?"

"I was cared for, eventually," the young woman said, a slight smile on her face. "And still am now. This is my home, and I have no wish to leave it. But...I think I am glad that you came."

"Oh-!" Darra couldn't seem to contain herself, standing swiftly with tears in her eyes only to pause and stare down at her long lost daughter. Somehow, for once, Tris knew exactly what to do. She stood as well, opened her arms wide, and said simple words. Words that banished a pain she had carried so long she hadn't realized it still hurt until now.

"I forgive you."

Her mother's hug enveloped her tightly, and the weather witch responded in kind as tears began to flow. Both reached for handkerchiefs a few minutes later, grumbling about how red their skin would turn, then glanced at each other and laughed. And cried. And laughed again. Darra blew her nose loudly, and Tris smiled.

"Your sister will be relieved to know you also suffer from the 'crying curse'," the Chandler matriarch said with a wry laugh. Her skin was still blotchy and her eyes slightly swollen, it made Tris less self conscious of her own reddened skin and eyes. "She might have hated you otherwise."

"You mean Ellwyn," Tris replied, sitting back down as her mother picked up the package she had dropped to the side.

"I do," her mother agreed with a slight smile. "We had this made for you, as I said before. It has pictures and some notes about everyone in our family. There are also some letters, from your siblings. That was Gareth's idea. Do you remember him too?"

"My older brother, yes." The words were spoken hesitantly, unfamiliar in her mouth, but Tris went on. "And I remember little Leigh."

"He isn't so little anymore." The wrappings opened to reveal a thick, leather bound volume with an unmarked cover. Flipping it open, her mother stopped at one page in particular and turned it to face Tris. "This is little Leigh now."

The young man in the portrait had the same serious grey eyes as she shared with her father and a close cropped cap of tight black curls. His lips were curved in honest amusement, and if the painter had his proportions right, he was now a good bit taller than the older sister he had once crawled after as a babe.

"He is 18 now," Darra went on as Tris tried to reconcile the memory with the image before her and failed. "And studying law of all things. Your father is exceedingly proud, for you have to pass several rounds of difficult testing to be accepted into the school. He is also courting a very sweet girl from another merchant family he has known most of his life. He knows we wish him to finish his studies before any arrangements are made, and I believe they are content to wait. He will marry late, but he will be an established man when he does."

"Gareth," her mother said as she moved to another page. "Your oldest brother. He is 25 now and managing a very successful merchant train line from Ninver to Lake Glaise and back. The trip takes three months to half a year, and every other round he makes the journey himself to oversee things. He is yet unmarried, but we have hopes that a clever girl may yet catch his eye." Gareth was shorter than his younger brother and stocky like their father. His hair was red and his eyes blue, and he seemed to radiate sobriety. It was his clothes, Tris realized as she studied the portrait. Cut severely, with no decoration or give anywhere. Leigh had been dressed nicely but with a touch of lace at his wrists and light embroidery along his cuffs.

She glanced up at her mother, a question on her lips, and caught the knowing smile the woman wore. "You have someone in mind?" she asked instead, correctly interpreting the look.

Darra's smile turned both proud and secretive. "A...possible prospect, yes. He is too serious for his own good, and I think she would help him smooth his rough edges nicely. Still, we shall have to see. This is Ellwyn, your older sister, and her husband Delmar."

The face was a younger version of Darra herself. Ellwyn's hair fell in the same glossy black waves, her skin pale and perfect and her figure as trim and lithe. The weather witch only dimly recalled the little girl who had trailed their mother around, imitating her in every way possible. At the time Tris had prefered spending her time with brothers who were more interested in having adventures than if their hair fell in perfect ringlets every time or with the nurse who read them stories. The man next to her sister was very tall, with broad shoulders and a wind-weathered face that spoke of days spent outdoors at work. Still, his black eyes were merry and his smile easy beneath brown locks tied back at the nape.

"She was married two solstices' ago to Delmar," her mother explained as she smiled fondly at the pair. "His family are not of merchant stock, but he is a very successful First Mate in the local naval operation and will, hopefully, receive his Captaincy before too long."

"What happened to her marrying a Duke or a Prince?" The memory was so faint she wasn't sure she had remembered right, but Tris was rewarded when Darra laughed in surprise.

"Dukes and princes are in short supply, it seems," she replied, still laughing. "But there were still several young men clamoring for her attention. Delmar stood out by being one of the few who did not. Your father was very impressed with how he handled her."

"I see." Tris' voice was curiously reserved, and Darra glanced up to see her daughter's face set in a blank expression.

"Oh, not like that dear," she said quickly as she realized how her words had been taken. "Your sister is very strong-willed, and she needed a husband she could esteem. One who would stand up to her when it was appropriate, who would be the man of his household and lead firmly as he should. Most of the young puppies at her heels would have given her free rein over their lives, and that is not a healthy way to begin a marriage. Delmar, however, is her equal, and as any well-matched team, they will pull in unison, instead of against one another. It wasn't that he ignored her or mistreated her. He simply refused to be overawed by her and treated her with exactly as much deference and respect as she deserved. Nothing more. It didn't take her long to realize a single genuine compliment was worth a great deal more than the insubstantial clamoring of her litter."

Tris nodded after a moment, and her mother shared a dry smile with her. "If it doesn't mean something, it isn't worth your time," the weather witch said as she ran a finger along Chime's spine.

"Precisely," her mother agreed. With a fond smile, she went back to the book. "These are the twins." The young man Tris recognized immediately as Thomas, and his twin sister stood beside him with the same cheeky grin. Their hair was the same coppery red Tris shared with their father, but their eyes were more blue than grey, and the girl's long locks were straight as could be.

"They were born after I...left." The words were spoken in a careful voice, and her mother took it for the olive branch it was.

"Yes," she replied softly, giving her daughter a grateful smile. "Thomas, whom you met, and Tamara. When they were younger, they were called Tom and Tam and sometimes still are. Particularly when they're into mischief together. When Thomas turned ten he begged your father to apprentice him to a glassmaker, and your father asked Keth if he would take the boy on. We had other master glassmakers in Ninver, but your father thought it would be best to ask someone we were already heavily invested in through the business. Keth agreed, and we haven't seen much of Thomas since. Your father thinks it will be good for the boy, to travel so much and be introduced to new people and places, but I miss having him at home with me. His twin moped for nearly a month when he left, and we have been struggling to find something for her to do to keep herself busy."

"She doesn't have any interests?" the weather witch as she studied the girl in the portrait, mouth pulled into a slight frown. She couldn't imagine someone so like Thomas wouldn't have something they enjoyed doing.

"Well, she is very attached to numbers but your father is rather against his daughter becoming an accountant and financier," Darra admitted, adding hastily, "He says it's not ladylike." She seemed to know the argument was weak but said it anyways in solidarity with her husband. Tris wondered how many conversations had happened behind closed doors, conversations where her mother had not managed to convince her father that girls could work with numbers if they wished. Perhaps, she could give her mother some assistance for the next one.

"I am told neither is tying winds and lightning up in your hair," Tris replied with a hint of dryness to her voice. "Also that it's impossible, but I seem to manage alright."

The Chandler matriarch considered that for a moment before replying with a smile, "I could mention that to him. He might change his mind, he thinks very highly of you after all, and Tamara would be in heaven. She would live in the room with the ledgers, if she could, and it would be good to have a child working in the financial side of things. Gareth is a very good manager, but the numbers give him fits. He uses a man of business to keep them all straight. He's a cousin, of course, but a distant one, and he's from a very small branch. Not someone to entrust with the main books."

"There are things men are generally better suited for," Tris said mildly, remembering Briar and his thrice-cursed muscles that he wore so very well. She didn't realize the memory brought a small smile and faint flush to her cheeks, but her mother did. "But that does not mean all women should not do those things. Or that men should not do things women are generally better suited for. You should be able to take your talents, whatever they are, and use them to the best of your ability whether they are 'ladylike' or not."

"I agree," Darra replied with a broad smile, filing her daughter's look away for later inspection. "I suppose you've met many people who live outside the usual ways in your travels."

Tris' smile turned crooked, but she said simply, "Some. Are there any other surprise siblings in there?"

Her mother laughed, shaking her head vigorously. "No, the twins were surprise enough. After that we made sure we were done." The relief that flooded through the weather witch was unusual until she gave it thought. Her parents hadn't had more children to replace her, Tom and Tam were a surprise, an accident. Her mother went on, flipping through further pages. "You do have several new cousins, but..."

"I don't think I will be reconnecting with most of my aunts and uncles." Tris' voice was quiet, and Darra nodded in agreement. If the merchant wife was honest, she was going to have a hard time herself being polite to some of her brothers and sisters by marriage the next time they met. Not after what she now knew.

"Well, there is one I want you to see." The merchant wife turned towards the back, and Tris looked down at an image that could have been her reflection had her hair been straight instead of curly.

"I...I know her." The words were spoken under her breath, brows knitted together as she tried to connect the face with a vague memory of a sharp-tongued woman who was always visiting...or did she live with them? "Who is this?"

"Your aunt," Darra replied softly, her smile gentle and a touch sad as she traced the edge of the portrait absently. "Alyssa Chandler, your father's youngest sister. She had a...an illness. It made the air freeze in her lungs, and she would be unable to breath. The family, on the recommendation of the doctor, sent her to live with us as we were by the sea. You were her favorite niece, she told everyone that, and when you were around, for some reason, she breathed a little easier."

"She was very weak, though, and had an attack one night. No one heard her, not even the nurse who was meant to help her. By morning, she was dead. Your father broke a little bit after that; she was his favorite sibling, and I think hearing you accused of possession broke him even more. That was when he sent you away. Before her death, she was the last one standing with us arguing against it. With her gone, he had no one from his family supporting him anymore."

Tris couldn't stop staring at the face, so like her own and wondered once again how things may have been different. Aunt Alyssa, and Tris was her favorite niece. Once upon a time, she had been someone's favorite niece.

"May I keep it?" Tris asked without meaning to. When Darra gave her a puzzled look, she added quickly, "So I can show it to Briar. I...I hadn't told him about my brothers and sisters before. I didn't want to remember. But I think he's curious now that he knows, and I'd like to show it to him."

"Of course." Her mother's smile widened again, then took on a teasing cast her daughter was coming to dread. "Which reminds me of the other reason I came to speak to you." Tris did not reply, any response seemed dangerous with that look in her mother's eye, and Darra went on after a moment's pause. "The ball in a week's time, you are attending?"

"Yes, all four of us," her companion said carefully.

Darra's smile only grew, if that were possible, and the dread redoubled itself in Tris' stomach. "Does your husband like to dance?"

"He does," the weather witch admitted ruefully, unable to completely hide her chagrin as she explain, "I, on the other hand, do not. He will have to content himself with our usual two or three for the evening."

"Why?" The single word was said with volumes of curiosity.

"I'm...I'm not a very good dancer. I don't care for it," Tris replied, knowing as soon as she said the words that it was a weak excuse and one that wasn't entirely true. They had all been taught to dance at the Citadel by Sandry's instructor before leaving to travel, and she had been proficient enough then. But it hadn't taken long for her to realize the truth: the good dancers wanted the pretty girls, the slim ones in fancy gowns with rich fathers or magic they understood. Briar always asked her to dance, he always asked all of them, but after a time, she had simply stopped going. It was better to avoid them than attend knowing the only decent partner who would take her around the floor would be her brother.

Her mother broke into her reverie with a thoughtful, "But you care for him."

"Yes." That slipped out without thought, but it was true. Tris turned her attention to the conversation rather than her own muddled thoughts.

Darra's tone took on a touch of lecturing as she explained, "While husbands may think it is their job to tend to their wives, really, it is the wives who must see to their husbands. They require so much more cosseting than we do, though they are loath to admit it. One of the greatest gifts we can give them as wives is to show interest in something they love or enjoy even if we do not care for it ourselves. For example, your father for whatever reason finds certain kinds of stonecraft interesting. I do not, but I still learn about it. Then, I can follow what he says when I tour old stone temples or other buildings with him. I look for books or oddities that I think might interest him connected with it. Even if I do not always hit it quite on the mark, he is always _most_ appreciative of the effort I put into it." The smile that accompanied that last remark was enough to make Tris blush on her mother's behalf. The woman laughed but went on encouragingly.

"In your situation, you have the perfect opportunity to provide such a service for Briar. Imagine his delight when he realizes he will not be contained to a tiny fraction of the dances offered for the evening! And really, what better way to show everyone that he is yours now? Your father told me about his many dalliances before your marriage, and while I will not hold it against him, it would not be amiss to be certain everyone knows he is now firmly in your hand. Then, after the ball, I believe you will find his gratitude _most_ rewarding as well." Darra did not include her lascivious smile this time, Tris had turned red halfway through, and it had only grown worse towards the end. The older woman considered the thoughtful expression that accompanied the brilliant flush promising and kept her peace.

"I will think about it," Tris finally said, deciding to give it serious consideration after her mother had left.

"Do not think too long!" the Chandler matriarch advised cheerfully. "You have less than a week. Will you need help with anything if you do decide to...?"

"No, that won't be necessary," her daughter said quickly, deciding that if she did go through with the plan she had help enough already to see it through.

"Then I will leave you on that note." Tris accepted the kiss her mother dropped on her cheek and hugged her back gently before she left. Her mother. The words no longer felt unnatural in her mind, she realized with a start as she showed her visitor to the door and watched her walk down the street. Darra Chandler was once more her mother.

-090-

Daja had returned from her deliveries to find Tris waiting for her, a book in her lap and a notebook to the side. The weather witch set her book aside when she saw her and motioned her to close the door. Daja obeyed, face furrowing in a frown as she asked quietly, "Is everything alright?"

"I'm not sure," Tris replied softly, lacing her fingers together nervously. "My mother suggested something. At the time, it seemed reasonable but the more I think about it the more ways it seems to go wrong in my mind..."

The smith mage knew that particular tone, and it meant, if she didn't stop her sister, she would be listening to a half a bell's explanation before she got to the meat of the matter. Shock, she decided, would work to derail this particular train of thought.

"No, I don't think Briar would be opposed to seeing you naked," she interjected when the weather witch took a breath.

Whatever Tris had been about to say was choked off in a strangled yelp, bright red spots appearing on her cheeks as she managed an offended squeak. "Daja!"

Which was not what Daja had expected at all. She studied her sister for a moment, a thought she hadn't seriously considered before taking shape in the back of her mind. The be-freckled young woman had closed her eyes, one hand rubbing the bridge of her nose as she fought to control the blush that raged across her face. Oh. And none of her business, Daja decided as she schooled her face back to a teasing grin.

"Good, you're not whining anymore. You hate whining," she said lightly, patting Tris on the arm in the way she usually did when teasing. "What's going on?"

Tris didn't bother to open her eyes, going immediately into a bare-bones recitation of her mother's suggestion only a bell before. "And," she added as she reached the end, "I am stuck between agreeing with her or not. Mostly because I cannot help feeling that if I say no she is going to want to know why and a simple 'Because I didn't want to' will not suffice. But if I say yes, I'm afraid of making a fool of myself at the ball. Either way, it ends poorly, and I don't know what to do."

Daja considered her sister a second time and came to the same conclusion as before. Oh. Oh, oh, oh. And still not her business. "She has a point, though," the smith mage said after several heartbeats of silence, deciding it would be best to pursue the most logical course of action. Logic usually worked best with Tris. "If you were actually married to him, you would probably be doing exactly as she suggested. And it would be a good surprise for Briar in general. He wouldn't have to pretend to be thrilled, and it would probably be a pretty convincing performance for your parents."

"Yes," Tris agreed grudgingly, "but I'm not just going to make the offer as things stand now. I don't even know most of the dances that are popular anymore, and I've never attended a ball without spending most of it doing something other than dancing."

"No, that would be silly," her sister agreed seriously. The relief on the weather witch's face lasted only until she added, "You're going to have to practice."

The sigh was deep and heartfelt, but her nod was resolute. "I was afraid you were going to say that. Who do you have in mind?"

"With me," Daja said with a smile, a plan of her own hatching in the back of her mind. She could help Tris and herself at the same time. "I've been learning to lead. Most women don't, and it makes finding a partner I like that much easier."

It was an option Tris had not considered, and one she welcomed instantly. Daja wouldn't mock her or make her feel ridiculous, if it ended up being a bad idea. "When do you want to practice?" she asked, the fear and tension from before receding to the background for the time being.

"Now, probably. We'll need to do it when Briar's out of the house or in the garden. You keep tabs on him while we go around, and he'll never be the wiser," her sister said as she started moving the few chairs in the room out of the way and cleared the floor of bits and pieces of past projects.

"But how can I do that when I'm supposed to be focused on the dancing?" the weather witch protested as she helped, stacking books that had been left lying about into a neat pile.

"That's part of your problem, I think," Daja admitted, giving the space a quick look over before nodding in satisfaction. "You're so worried about what's coming next, it makes you fumble what's happening right then. You aren't supposed to be worried about that; I am. The leader leads the dance, chooses the next step. Follower follows what the leader does. Keeping an eye on Briar might make you worry less."

Tris was not convinced, but she settled with a muttered, "Maybe."

The smith mage smiled and offered a hand her sister accepted despite her reservations. "Let's get started. We'll do the one like a box first." It was one of the first they had learned as children, and hopefully, Tris would only need a quick refresher to feel comfortable with it once more. "And- one two three, one two three, one two three-"

-090-

Briar worked hard the rest of the day to make up for his morning of idleness. Truth be told, he hadn't minded entertaining their visitors. For some reason, it was becoming almost a game to rub in Keth's face that _he_ , Briar Moss, was the one who had married Tris. Obviously, he wasn't jealous; what was there to be jealous of? Tris was Keth's teacher, and for all that the blonde man was older, they had a fairly normal teacher/student relationship. Even if they hadn't been married, Briar would have one up on the older man just by being her brother and having the magical bond that they shared. So there was nothing to be jealous of at all.

Sandry arrived for dinner that night, eager to hear how lunch with the Chandlers had gone and glad to escape from the Citadel for an evening. Her uncle was entertaining several noble families from across his small country who had gathered for a wedding in the city. As a result, she was being relentlessly pursued by several mothers and sons who would be more than happy to have the Duke's favored niece join their family by marriage. It would end in a week or so, but it was good to have a reason to escape for a second night in a row.

Tris brought the thick, leather-bound volume with her to the table as they gathered to eat, and Daja gave it was surprised look as her sister set it on the table. "I thought we agreed no reading at the table," she said as she noted the lack of title or decoration on the front or spine.

"This isn't that kind of book," the weather witch replied as Briar helped her with her seat (a routine that had become almost habit now) and left it at that. Sandry's brows rose with curiosity, but she said nothing. Briar was the one to talk as the maids brought in their meal. Quickly, he described their visitors and the success of the gathering. Tris' cookies had won the day, Chime had charmed Thomas, and the Chandlers now knew where the special spirals of glass came from. The gardens had impressed, and Daja had been missed. And Thomas was declared a pretty clever kid.

"He's your brother, right?" Sandry asked, serving herself from the sliced beef roast in the middle of the table. "And Keth's apprentice. That must have been a shock!"

"He is," Tris replied, glancing down at the book beside her. "And it was. That's actually why I brought this. You see, my mother was afraid I wouldn't remember my siblings or any of my family. So, they had this made."

The other three leaned in as she opened the cover, revealing first a portrait of Darra and Valden. "In case I was mad and needed help remembering who people were," the redhead said when Daja gave her a puzzled look. She turned the page. "This," she said as she motioned to stern young man with features startlingly similar to her own, "Is Gareth. He is the oldest Chandler child."

"Takes himself very seriously, I think," Daja commented as she noted the nose and cheekbones that were a match for her sister's.

"That's what m-...that's what Darra said," Tris said with a wan smile.

"You can call her your mother," Sandry offered in the awkward pause that followed. "She _is_ your mother."

The weather witch scowled, but her heart wasn't in it as she sighed, "It feels disloyal to Rosethorn and Lark to call her that in front of you. And it feels disloyal to call him and the others my brothers and sisters. Gareth, Leigh, Ellwyn, Thomas and Tamara." She flipped through each portrait as she said the names, and each face was eerily like her own in some form or feature. In tone or shape or shadow. "Names and faces, but I don't know them. I hardly know my mother and father. We're practically strangers!"

"Tris," Daja said thoughtfully as she studied the twins that were currently facing the four. "We won't think any less of you for having a family again. One besides us, I mean. Sandry has the Duke and her cousins in Namorn. Briar, for all we know, could have several siblings by his father, whoever that is. I...I even have family still. Or at least people who share my blood. By the official books, we're no longer related, but they still live. Making peace with your blood doesn't change who we are or what we share. Ever."

"I agree," Sandry added when the weather witch glanced at her next. "I know it's not quite like Uncle because you've all known him from the beginning. But they seem like they genuinely care, and they're really trying to make this work. I mean, _look at this_!" The stitch witch carefully closed the volume, running a hand over the unmarked leather cover with a sense of awe. "These portraits, each one that we've seen is crafted by a master painter. That's not an inexpensive venture. The book itself is spelled, too."

Tris blinked in surprise. "It is?" Quickly she removed her spectacles, viewing the volume again as she called up her enhanced vision. The layers of wardings and spells laid into the leather leapt to the surface as she studied it. Charms against water and fire. Charms to protect the coloring of the paints. Charms to keep the pages from sticking. Charms to keep the cover intact.

Briar let out a low whistle as he studied it beside her. "That," he said simply, "Is worth a small fortune by itself."

"Exactly," Sandry said as she carefully opened it back to Gareth's page. "These aren't nobles; they're merchants. They don't throw coin about like it's water. But this, something they weren't even sure they would need, was so important they took every precaution to get it here safely."

"She told me today they had plans laid for every contingency they could imagine," Tris said as she allowed herself to consider how extensive those plans must actually be for once. "That they had consulted doctors and mages and all sorts of experts and had the best care possible standing by if I were to need it when they arrived home with me..." The weather witch rubbed a hand over her face as her vision suddenly went blurry, her fingers coming back damp with the tears. Briar just looped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against his side as Daja and Sandry pretended to debate whether or not Gareth was handsome. His clean handkerchief was in her hand before Tris could reach for her own, and she gratefully wiped her eyes as she strove to master herself. Crying... and twice in one day! If she wasn't careful people were going to think she was going soft.

"Tris, there's something tucked behind the picture," Daja said as she drew an envelope out for all to see.

"Letters," Tris replied. "Gareth's idea, apparently, and supposedly, they all wrote one."

"Then you'll have a lot of reading to do tonight," Sandry said as she excitedly flipped to the next page and pulled another from behind the portrait of Ellwyn.

"Actually, I thought we might do it together," Tris replied with a slight smile. "Pick one, any of them. I want to know what you think of them."

It didn't take much to convince her siblings she was serious. Sandry opened the thick letter she held from Ellwyn and Daja the considerably thinner letter from Gareth. Briar pulled two envelopes from behind the portraits of the twins and handed one to her without looking at which was which. She met his smile with one of her own and shoved aside the pleasure from the fact that he kept his arm around her shoulders. He was just being Briar, and she was being silly.

The thin paper in front of her was of a decent quality, one that did not let the ink run or blur but was not of the finest caliber. Merchant stock. The letter was from Thomas, and she felt her lips curl upwards as she realized the young man had presented himself on paper exactly as he was in real life. Upfront and honest and curious, intelligent and kind. And apparently, a daydreamer. Tris didn't know what about her portrait made him think of adventures, but she hoped he hadn't been disappointed with her appearance. She had had adventures, she supposed, but nothing as sensational as what he described in his daydreams.

"Well, your older brother sounds like you by the way he writes," Daja commented, a teasing smile on her face. "And he has some stories here about a young Tris that I'm not sure even you would remember. Apparently, you once stole a whole bowl of strawberries and managed to get them everywhere before you were discovered under a bed."

"I did not!" Tris replied quickly, turning red as Briar gave her a knowing look. "Or...I don't think I did. How old does he say I was?"

"Hmm...probably two or three."

"Then...I suppose I might have." That was something Tris hadn't considered. How many stories would her blood family have about her as a young child?

"He also says you learned to read before Ellwyn, and she was extremely jealous about it," Daja went on as her smile grew. "And that you shouldn't let her forget it because she thinks too much of herself as it is."

"I can't believe he remembers all that," Tris murmured as she set Thomas' letter aside.

"There's more, but I'll let you read it later. I especially like the story about the time you escaped from your bath, but I think he'll do a better job telling it than me." Daja did not miss the faint flush on her sister's face or the way she pretended not to have heard while turning to their sister.

"How is your letter?" Tris asked Sandry, trying to ignore her laughing husband as he traded his letter for Daja's. That was when she noticed the blush that had spread up Sandry's face to her hairline, her foster-sister's mouth hanging open slightly. The noblewoman didn't respond. "Sandry?"

"Is it that interesting?" Daja asked as she noticed, leaning over to read along as well. The smith's brows lifted slowly, her mouth dropping open as well. "Ah, at least we know she's happily married," the Trader woman said half to her herself.

"Let me see!" Tris took the letter back, and it only took scanning a few lines to confirm her worst fears. Hastily, she refolded the letter and stuffed it back into it's envelope before Briar could read it. "It's like talking to my mother all over again," she muttered to herself as she flipped to the right page and put it back behind the correct portrait.

"I take it that one is off limits to me?" Briar asked as he glanced over from his own letter. Tamara's had been the thickest yet, and he was only halfway through. "Thomas' twin mostly writes about numbers and books, and stories about people I assume are cousins or friends around her age. She seems like a nice girl, quieter than Thomas probably."

"Boys usually are the noisy ones," Daja replied, sticking her tongue out. "And yes, I think Ellwyn's letter is probably off-limits for you."

"It might be off-limits for everyone," Tris muttered not entirely to herself. "I'm still not convinced it's alright to share that much of your personal life with someone else. She doesn't even know me!"

"Well, she kind of does," Sandry said speculatively as she read Leigh's letter next. "Her and Gareth, at least, they're older than you, right? They have memories of you as a child, and if what your parents say is true, your portrait was never taken down. You've been there the entire time, in a way. I bet your parents told all of them stories they could remember, and they've re-told those stories to each other. Or told stories about things they remember that their parents don't. They probably feel like they do know you because at least the idea of you has been a part of their lives all this time."

"But I'm probably nothing like they imagine," Tris protested weakly.

"No, you're better," Briar said with a wide grin. "They're just hoping for someone they can talk to and bring home. They're going to be disappointed on the second part, but I'd say a well-respected mage sibling makes up for it. Plus us three because anything that involves you involves us too. We're like...half-siblings to them, if you think about it."

"Well, two half siblings and a brother-in-law," Daja corrected him with a wink. "The marriage, remember?"

"Right, right," he agreed, moving on quickly. "But still. They expected one; they're getting four. They expected maybe sane; they're getting a fully-trained mage in two schools of magic. They're absolutely getting the better end of this bargain."

"This isn't a trade deal," Tris said pointedly, frowning. "I'm not up for sale like a horse at market."

"No," her husband said quickly, sensing his choice of words had been unwise. "That's not what I meant. I'm trying to say that whatever they imagined, how can you possibly _not_ be better than that? You're talented, smart, and you've had adventures beyond anything they've ever imagined."

"Yes because being dropped down a flight of stairs by a hidden curse and breaking nearly every Prathmuni-blessed bone in your body is _exactly_ the kind of adventures people dream of," the weather witch said scathingly.

"It makes for such a good story though," Daja said with a brilliantly white smile. "Especially the part where you exact your revenge."

"I _didn't_ exact revenge!"

"Exactly!"

"I think the point here," Sandry broke in gently before the argument could spiral even more out of control, "is that it's fine for you to have more family, Tris. It's not disloyal to us. Technically, even if they did send you away, they were there first."

"Maybe," Tris agreed, relief creeping into her voice. "But you will always be my closest family. Even without our circle, I think I would still feel that way."

"Without our circle," Briar pointed out cheerfully, "we'd probably all be dead."

For some reason, they laughed.

-090-

Tris sat on her balcony with Briar beside her, the plant mage carefully trimming a few stray buds his oldest shakkan had sprouted with the turning of the season. She could hear him muttering to the plant under his breath, saying he understood that pruning didn't feel good, but that he couldn't keep all the buds or the shakkan wouldn't keep his proper shape. He didn't want to lose that, did he? Losing his shape would mean not being as strong, and if he grew weak, he could get sick. One bud, just one, could stay, and no arguing. No, two buds right next to each other did not count as one bud...

It made her smile and feel a little less alone as she considered the conversations she sometimes had with the wind. She knew it wasn't alive, not really, but it _felt_ alive sometimes.

"Are you still decided on not letting me read your sister's letter?" Briar asked in a too-casual voice as he finished snipping the final bud along one branch and rested one hand comfortingly on the ancient, twisted trunk.

"Yes," she replied absently, refusing to rise to the bait. He didn't really want to read it, but it was a typical method for him to start a conversation. "What did you think of the rest of the letters?"

"I think you have some pretty amazing brothers and sisters," he said, sticking his tongue between his teeth as he carefully removed another bud. "And I'm kind of jealous of that, actually."

"Really?" She set the book aside and watched him as he delicately removed another bud with the skill of a surgeon. "Why?"

"If I have other brothers or sisters," he said as he continued his work. "And it is an 'if'...if I do, the chances of me ever finding them are so small they basically don't exist, and even if I did, they truly wouldn't know who I was. This is my family; it's the only family I've ever had besides my gang, if you could even count that, but there's also so much I don't know. How did my mother end up where she did? She might have been born into it, sold into it, chosen it for herself. I don't know. Maybe, she liked it; maybe, she hated it. I'm not even sure how she felt about me. If she knew who my father was, she never said. Or I don't remember her saying anything. All three of you have...roots. People you come from, good and bad. I have nothing. I'm like a cutting that got separated from the rest and was randomly planted in some garden by mistake."

"Briar..." Laying a hand over his impulsively, Tris caught his green-grey eyes steadily even as he tried to look away. "Where you come from isn't as important as where you go. And I think you ended up exactly where you were meant to be."

Briar blinked, the realization that she meant it making his chest grow tight, but his response was forestalled by the way her eyes suddenly unfocused in surprise. A moment later he felt it himself, his shakkan pulsing softly beneath their hands on it's trunk. Only...only she shouldn't be able to feel it.

Tris' voice was unsteady as she asked softly, "Was that...?"

"He tried to reach for you," Briar replied, a sense of wonder in his voice. "I mean, I knew he was more aware of you than the other two but he's never done that before!"

"Reached for me? _Aware_ of me?" The weather mage shook her head, removing her hand carefully to rub at her palm. "Briar, that shouldn't be possible. What are you-?"

"He recognizes you," the plant mage went on excitedly, taking her hand again and wrapping it back around the trunk with his own. She let him, ignoring the flush that crept into her face as his hands swallowed hers. "It's how I know you've been fiddling with the weather sometimes." Briar caught the frown those words brought and added, "Guiding it, I mean. He knows when the she-wind and she-rain has been moving, and he tells me if we're linked. Which is most of the time if I'm home because he gets lonely sometimes."

"She-wind and she-rain?" Tris could feel the heat emanating from her face as she repeated his words. She was thankful he was too busy to notice.

"That's what he calls you," Briar said as he gently squeezed his hand in time to another pulse. "Well, sort of. He doesn't understand names. And there's images and other things that come with it. He thinks of me as 'the other like himself but that is not' or some such ridiculous thing. Sometimes, my image has branches or roots or is festooned in flowers."

And somehow Tris could see it too. Briar, a crown of flowers on his head, and it did not look ridiculous in the least. He wouldn't care. He would be proud of his crown, and somehow that made it all the more...she thought her face was going to catch fire. "Does he know Sandry and Daja too?" she quickly asked in a strangled voice, desperately trying to dispel the tempting images dancing in her head.

"Not as much, but some," he admitted as he let go with one hand to begin removing the last few buds. Her hand was still trapped beneath his, but she couldn't bring herself to move it just yet. "He sometimes mutters about his leaves drying out when Daja's too close. I can't use any of her spelled wire for my plantwork-it doesn't mix well for some reason - so he doesn't associate that with her. Sandry, though, is the 'one that binds' since I mostly use her special twine in the garden. It doesn't unknot or wear thin, so it gets used alot. You're still the one he notices most of the time."

Tris let herself feel the grain of the gnarled trunk under her fingers, tracing along a tiny crack where she could. Carefully, she reached out. It wasn't like with Briar or her sisters. There was no joining, even bonded as they were she could no more have used the shakkan's strength alone than Briar could have a storm. But there was something there, an acknowledgement, like an enormous oak tipping its head slightly to welcome the rain. She bowed back, in her mind, and felt the same gentle pulse as before.

"I think he's your family too," she said, withdrawing her hand slowly from his as the tree went still once more. "Uncle? Grandfather?"

"Cousin," Briar decided quickly. "An older cousin, maybe, but still a cousin. Can you have a tree for a cousin?"

"I think we're past questioning what can and can't be done with magic," she snorted, picking up her book again and finding her page.

"Fair enough," he replied, wielding his shears deftly among the tiny branches. Still, his wife watched him out of the corner of her eye, paying more attention to his hands at work than the pages in front of her. Blossoming posies along his fingers reminded her of the thought of flowers twined in his hair, and she quickly shut her book with a snap as she felt her face flame once more.

"I'm going for another cup of tea," she said as she quickly rose, putting her back to him. "Do you want anything?"

"Cookies," he said with a grin. "Yours. They always help after the ouches."

"I'll bring you some."

Briar didn't know why Tris was blushing as she bustled out the door, but it sure made him smile.

-090-

Author's Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY to Fateless Wanderer, an old friend of too many years to count (as we both agreed it makes us feel old). If you like being creepy and stalker-ish feel free to find her and PM her your own birthday message. Or you could just review and leave her a message there. She would probably enjoy that too.

No Bargain. No replacement at this time. Moving on.

For those of you who reviewed, thank you as always! A review is a like a hug from a stranger that is actually pleasant and not terrifying. And I think everyone can use more hugs, eh?

As it so happens, that is all this week. It's been a particularly busy week, but not with things that pertain to this story, so there isn't much to say. I hope you are all enjoying your summer, if you're on my side of the world, and if not well...read more fanfiction? It's a pretty good escape when life is difficult, requires only a screen and the internet, and is generally full of people who will reach out if you really need to help.

Until next time,

~CB~


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:

The next few days were set aside for work. Darra and Valden had received multiple invitations to visit with other merchant-based clans in Emelan once word of their arrival had spread. Their son and his master decided to spend a day or two working with Tris before exploring the other glass shops in the city. Briar had more than enough to do in his garden to keep him busy; summer was upon them and the weeds never took a break. And Daja and Sandry had their own duties and responsibilities to see to.

Keth and Thomas arrived early the next morning, and still Tris was up and waiting for them in the kitchen with a tray of cookies and a pot of tea. Thomas eagerly picked up one of the treats and his master a fresh cup. Chime, who had been waiting with the weather mage, quickly settled herself in the boy's lap with a satisfied smile. Tris had decided that, since her workroom wasn't meant for so many, they would talk in the dining room instead and led them there as she explained what she had done to Keth.

"The concept is simple," she said as she brought out a box with several rain shield charms in it, each made with a slightly different mixture of the glass. "I can make a rain shield almost without thought. Therefore, if I can transfer that to a charm, someone can activate that shield over themselves for a time."

"And you figured out how to do that?" The open admiration in Keth's voice wasn't feigned; it was difficult work taking something you did instinctively and replicating it as a reusable charm. Tris brushed it aside as she went on.

"Yes, that's not the problem. The problem is that the charm is so strong it erodes the glass if I set it at more than a third strength," she explained as she sorted through the various pendants. "That is enough protection for two to three bells in a steady rain." Irritation colored her words and turned the corners of her mouth down as she pulled out one in particular and demonstrated what she meant. The glass crumbled on the edges into a fine powder as she tapped it against the table. She sighed as Keth examined it with a careful finger.

"A third strength seems good enough to me," he said as he picked up one of the others and held it up to the light for a thorough examination. "Bags and merchants will pay for it even if it only lasts a little while."

"Not for what I want to charge for them," Tris grumbled as Chime began to eat the remaining bits of the charm that had disintegrated on the table. The glass dragon was able to ingest all of her failed experiments, which was a handy way of disposing of the remains but an expensive way to keep such an exotic pet fed. "And time is also a problem. They last only a moon or two before the magic begins to drain away. There was a piece of glass in Lightsbridge that was used in the charms writing class. It is how I discovered I could use glass when most other substances would not work for me. I could inscribe any charm on it at any strength, and it did not fail. It was made by a special glass mage several years ago specifically for students to learn on, and they only had a few other examples of his work. I studied them all as much as was allowed, to try and discover how they were made. I'm getting closer, I think, but not close enough."

"Hm. Metal doesn't work for you?" He had seen her place lightning on coins before, but she pulled a face before shaking her head.

"It likes sharing the lightning too much," she explained, and Keth immediately understood. Of course, he should have seen that for himself.

The Master glassmaker picked one up and handed it to Thomas who was still busy stuffing his face and petting the glass dragon. "Study this, then go meditate in the front room for thirty minutes. When you come back, I expect two possible solutions from you for this problem."

The boy nodded and accepted the charm, turning it over in his hands slowly and holding it to the light to inspect its clarity and refraction. Soon, he put the glass back down and left to complete the rest of his assigned task. Chime followed, as she was not about to let anyone who enjoyed petting her that much out of her sight.

"Don't you think that's a bit much for someone his age?" Tris asked curiously.

"At his age, you were surviving earthquakes and defeating pirate hordes," Keth replied with a grin. "Besides, he's not a mage, which means he'll think along different lines than us. I have a question about how you inscribe these, though..."

Time flew by, and Tris suddenly realized the lunch hour was ringing as Thomas reappeared with a sheepish look on his face. Chime sat about his shoulders, as though it was where she had always been.

"Fall asleep?" Keth asked the boy sat back down and picked up another cookie.

"No, Master Warder," the boy said around a mouthful of dessert. "I was thinking. And this is what I thought. I only have one solution, but my question is this: the reason tying winds into ropes works is because the winds are convinced that they are not really tied down at all but are running along a course that never ends. Right?"

Keth deferred to Tris who nodded slowly. "That's correct," she agreed hesitantly.

The boy gained confidence as he drew a circle on the table top with his finger tip. "Ok, so lightning is even wilder than wind, but it also follows pre-defined courses. What if you made a course for the lighting to follow? Like a copper loop that went around your neck instead of the ribbons they currently hang on. The lightning would run down the wire, into the charm, and back out again."

"How would you keep it from escaping?" Tris asked, leaning forward curiously.

"A glass coating," he replied immediately. "A thin one, just enough to keep the copper safely covered."

It was so simple. "That is-"

"Your brother at his finest," Keth cut in proudly. "He's every bit as clever as you, which makes keeping ahead of him a trial sometimes."

Thomas flushed with pride, his smile broad enough to reach ear to ear. "It just seemed logical."

Tris smiled back. "It is logical, and I can't believe I didn't see it before myself. Let's go talk to Daja, and see what she thinks. She might have an idea how best to form the metal to do what we want it to."

-090-

Tris looked up as Briar came into the room, papers strewn across the small table in front of her. The plant mage paused in the doorway, hesitant for once as he met her gaze uncertainly.

"Briar? Is everything alright?" she asked as she straightened from the ledgers and pushed her spectacles back up her nose.

He tried for a smile, but it lacked something as he replied, "I need to talk to you, but you look busy."

"I'm not, really. I've already checked my numbers, they're correct." The disappointment in her tone made his brows lift, and she motioned him to the other chair in the room.

"You don't sound happy about that," he said as he accepted, settling into the worn seat easily.

"I spent money on supplies for my glassmaking last week," she explained as she piled the sheets together in a neat stack and placed them back in their ledger. "But between Keth and Thomas they have a couple of ideas. Those ideas render the majority of what I spent as useless, and I can't get that money back now."

"We all have times that happens," Briar said philosophically. "It's a risk of experimenting with magic."

"Yes, well...in this case, it means I need more, and I don't have enough right now to cover what I want to get," his wife grumbled, shrugging her shoulders irritably.

"Then I'll give it to you." The response was immediate and natural and got the response he expected nonetheless.

"No, Briar," she said, giving him a dark look.

"Why not?" the plant mage asked, returning her half-glare with a smile.

"You've given enough," she replied, and he realized she meant the bride price by the way her glare turned into a scowl. "I can purchase the supplies, just in smaller amounts."

"How much did you want to get?" he asked, mostly to try and keep her talking while he thought.

"Three or four times what I can afford," she said as she checked the figures she had listed out on another piece of paper, "but that is just so I can do some alternate mixtures in the glass. I can save until next moon or the one after and do them then. Sales usually go up over the summer, with new people visiting the city, so maybe sooner."

"Yes, but if you found the mixture now you could start selling them more widely," he pointed out, adding a bit of flattery with, "They're a great idea, Tris, and if you could get them to last all day, we probably wouldn't be able to keep them in stock in the spring and fall. Merchants will pay to have their goods protected, bags will pay so their hair and clothes won't get messed up. And then other bags and high-minded merchants will pay to emulate the snobby bags."

Tris wasn't entirely immune to flattery, especially from Briar for some reason, but she held firm against it this time. "I'm making enough for now," she told him stubbornly. "And when I get them figured out, I'll enjoy the extra income knowing I did it completely on my own."

"Tris, we're married," he said, changing tactics. "Let me help you. If nothing else, it's what a good husband should do. We can keep tally, if it makes you feel better, and work something out once they start flying off the shelves."

"I'm in your debt enough already," she argued flatly. "No."

"It's not a _debt_..." Which, he realized, was the wrong thing to say given his statement before. Still, he finished weakly with, "It's a gift."

"I can't keep accepting gifts like that from you," Tris said, suddenly refusing to meet his eyes.

"Why not?" her husband asked, striving to find firmer ground once more. "I don't mind. What's mine is yours."

Her eyes closed, and a faint flush rose on her cheeks. "Briar, you don't really mean that."

"Yes, I do," he insisted, not bothering to consider whether or not she might be right. Or perhaps it would be better to say he didn't bother to consider whether or not she _should_ be right.

"And what happens when this ends?" she asked, finally opening her eyes.

"I don't know," he admitted with a careless shrug, "but I'm not worried about it."

"I can't." Tris spoke with a finality that left no room for arguments. "I won't."

Briar met her steely gaze firmly, but sighed as he said softly, "Well, I can't make you take it."

"No, you can't." Her smile was dry, but she had relaxed again. He felt his own tension draining away in turn. "Was there something else you wanted to talk about?"

"Yes," Briar admitted, deciding it would be best to address it now rather than later. "Keth."

The weather witch waited for more to come, and when nothing did she prompted him with, "Is something wrong with Keth?"

"No. Or at least I think he's fine." The young man wondered at his fumbling tongue even as he rather wished Keth wasn't fine. It would probably render the whole conversation unnecessary if something happened to the glassmaker...

"Briar?" His name brought the plant mage back to the present, and he cleared his throat in embarrassment.

"I think you need to be careful when Keth's around," he said trying to sound logical as he did so. "Or at least where other people can see."

"I trust Keth almost as much as I trust you, Briar." Briar couldn't have stopped the smile that came to his lips if his life had depended on it. _Almost_ as much.

"I don't think he's going to do anything specifically wrong," he admitted grudgingly. "It's more to do with appearances. You're married now... to me. We're both figures people in the city know; he's not. If people see you with him in the city a lot, and if he's being very familiar with you, some people may assume the wrong thing. We both know there's people who will pass on any bit of tripe they hear. I just don't want a rumor starting and blowing up into something huge over a misunderstanding. Especially not with your parents here." All completely logical, he told himself as he sat back and waited to see how his words would be taken.

"Briar, I think you're overthinking this," Tris replied after a few moments of consideration, her head tilted to one side as one brow rose slightly. "Keth is...Keth. He's my student. We have a perfectly normal student/teacher relationship."

"And how many times have perfectly normal relationships been misinterpreted?" Briar asked dryly. "I've had people accuse me of sleeping with Rosethorn, and all three of you girls more than once. The only reason people haven't assumed you're sleeping with Niko is he obviously prefers older women, and you haven't slept with anyone at all. Sandry has been paired with every single eligible male of her rank at least once, and several who aren't of eligible rank. And don't get me started on what people accuse Daja of, being a Trader. Stupid _kaqs_ will say anything they hear and make the story grow with each retelling."

"I see your point," Tris agreed carefully, and it was valid. It seemed people always had time to gossip, which was ridiculous in her mind, given how busy they all were. "And what is it, exactly, that I need to do about it?"

"Just be mindful of what you're doing when you're with him," her companion replied, relief making him less cautious than before. "For example, you aren't a physically affectionate person, unless it's one of our circle or children. Letting Keth touch you is probably going to be noticed." The fact that it made Briar feel like snakes were wrestling in his gut had nothing to do with it at all. "Or being witty with him. Some people might mistake that for flirting." And it made his stomach feel even worse, but he was only trying to protect her, really.

"I don't flirt with Keth." The response was delivered in a flat voice that said anyone who thought so was an idiot.

" _I_ know that." Briar said quickly, putting his hands up in a calming gesture. "It's the bleaters who are out there who don't. You also probably shouldn't let him pay for anything." He hadn't thought about that one before, but it had slipped out as soon as he had. The fact that, if she did, it would feel like he was being stabbed was, of course, not part of it at all.

Tris looked at her brother-turned-husband, face still a blank mask as she said softly, "And by doing all this...we prevent rumors?" There was a certain amount of logic to what Briar said, but something about it felt...skewed. Not that he was lying, every word was true in so far as she could tell. But something...she would have to think on it later.

"Yes. Exactly," he said, obviously relieved. And if a byproduct of preventing rumors was making him very happy, he wasn't going to complain in the least.

"I suppose you're right," she said, nodding to herself as she glanced down at her list once more. "We don't want rumors starting now, not when things are going so well."

"Good." Retreat, he decided, was in order. He had what he wanted, and pressing further may cause problems. "I'll see you at dinner, then?"

"Yes," she agreed, watching as he left a good deal happier than he had arrived.

-090-

Thomas was not happy. Trips with masters were supposed to be like holidays, without boring, tedious work that would make one want to tear one's hair out. Still, Keth had insisted that he needed to see how far his student had progressed, and that meant making something over and over and over again to see how consistent his work was. Hence them being in the forge area while Tris worked with Daja in the smith mage's workroom on which kind of copper alloy to use in her charms. Chime sat above the smelter, basking in its heat as he worked.

Of course, the fact that Tris had specifically requested the items to be glass bottles had helped slightly. It meant he had a little more variation than if he had been merely blowing glass globes, and Tris said it was something the mages tended to need a lot of for their work. So, at least, this time, if his work was up to standard, it wouldn't just be thrown in the cullet when he was done. It might even hold something important some day. Briar had shown him his workroom that morning, and he had lots of bottles lining his shelves filled with all sorts of interesting things. Maybe some of Thomas' work would make it up there too, eventually.

And so, consoling himself with thoughts of contributing to something greater than himself, the boy blew on. It was a slow process. Waiting for the molten glass to reach the right temperature. Getting his gather, waiting for the right moment, and then slowly blowing out the shape he wanted. Shaping what came with a gentle, but firm hand using his wooden and metal tools. Heating the glass again, blowing more. Shaping more. Heating more. Back and forth and back and forth until he had something he was happy with and snipped it cleanly from the blow pipe. Then he began the process all over again.

As he worked he listened to his master mumble to himself in what he probably thought was too low a voice to be heard 'uppity young plant mages and their stupid games'. Thomas wasn't blind; Master Warder had spoken of their trip in surprisingly confident terms right up until he'd gone alone to the temple. He was going to propose, maybe stay a while to properly court his teacher, but by summer's end, they would return to Namorn, and his sister would follow within the year to wed him. Unless, of course, she refused, but it was always mentioned as a minor possibility that didn't warrant real consideration. She wouldn't refuse; why would she?

Except she did and was, in fact, already married to her foster brother.

Thomas thought it would likely have been a much easier blow to bear if not for that second part. He liked Briar; he really did. The mage's flowering tattoos were amazing, he had a beautiful garden, and he really loved Tris as far as the boy could tell. But the young man wasn't perfect and seemed almost vindictively pleased to remind Keth at every turn that he had won Tris and not the older man. Oh, he never said it outright, but the words were there if you knew how to listen for them. And oh how they stung the glassmaker. Which in turn was bringing out a flaw in his master.

"So," Thomas said in an offhand manner as he waiting for the glass to heat for a new gather. "Are you actually not upset that Tris married Briar, or are you just saying that to save face?" It wasn't as subtle as his mother could have managed or as forceful as his father would been, but he didn't know how else to say it.

Keth paused over the list of materials he was writing, glancing up at his student who was staring fixedly at the crucible. "Why do you ask?" he said, turning back to his work.

"Because," the boy said, keeping his voice calm and reasonable (he had read somewhere that calm deflected anger). "If she wasn't your teacher, I would say you were trying to get between her and her husband." The apprentice could feel his master's eyes on his back and kept them to his work. Despite that, Keth's face grew hot.

"I'm not upset," the older man said slowly, straightening to his full height. "Not that it's your business..." The warning note was clear, but the younger Chandler hadn't finished yet.

"She's my sister," Thomas said, meeting Keth's gaze for the first time. "And I don't want to see her hurt. I might not be an adult, but I can tell Briar is not happy about the way you try to treat her. I think you're trying to wind him up, and I think you should stop."

With that, the boy went back to his work, and Keth stared at him a moment longer before returning to his own. Thomas simply didn't know what he was talking about, he told himself, and he was treating Tris exactly as he should. If Briar didn't like it, that wasn't his problem;it was Briar's. He'd set the boy straight if he mentioned it again because it wasn't any of his business.

The boy did not, as a matter of fact, mention it again and was glad when his parents claimed him for dinner while his Master went to visit someone he knew at Winding Circle Temple. Hopefully, he would return from the visit in a better frame of mind.

-090-

That night, after their guests had left and the evening meal had been eaten Briar went back out to his gardens to do a second round of checks on a set of seedlings he'd transplanted that afternoon. He would be awhile, they knew from experience, and when Daja offered another lesson Tris was quick to accept. Magical work wasn't usually considered polite conversation, but discussing the copper alloys Tris had experimented with that afternoon was good practice for them both.

Almost a full bell passed before Tris realized Briar was back in his workroom cleaning up, and the pair put an end to their rehearsal. It wasn't as much as she'd hoped, but the weather witch could feel her confidence rising as the repetition made her steps a little more sure each time. Daja's added reassurance that, no, the improvement wasn't just in her mind made it all the more real.

Maybe, she considered for the first time as she slipped upstairs before Briar headed that way, maybe, she would surprise him, and maybe, it wouldn't be a disaster after all. And for some reason, that made her chest glow with warmth.

-090-

Tris hated being late, especially when it wasn't her fault. She had agreed to meet Keth and Thomas at the market square almost half a bell ago, and she was sure they had gone ahead without her by now. Chime sat on her shoulder, chirping indignantly as she walked briskly down the road. Her winds frisked about her as always, but they did not garner notice here. People who lived in the city knew the red-haired mage who wore blue-tinted glasses, and most of them stayed out of her path.

Chime, of course, was not acknowledging her part in this fiasco at all. The glass dragon rarely did, and Tris did not see that changing as the creature's vanity had only gotten worse with age. She supposed she should have expected something of the sort; the creature had been far too well-behaved lately not to be getting into trouble. Or perhaps it would have been better to say, she had been misbehaving and keeping it well hidden until now.

Their neighbors to the left had several cats. For the most part, they avoided the mage residence as Briar had warded their property from any stray animals. Some of his plants could hurt the animals if ingested, and a cat in the forge would be a disaster waiting to happen. He still scratched the cats when he came across them outside the gardens, and even sometimes gave them a treat from his pockets, but other than that nobody had anything to do with the creatures.

Except Chime. Chime, apparently, had taken an avid dislike to the felines and had been terrorizing them by yanking their tails when they got too close. As fast as the lithe creature was, the cats had not stood a chance. Their owner, however, had finally seen what was causing her precious babies to avoid their back gardens and had marched herself straight over to give Tris a piece of her mind. Tris had apologized, and Chime had been scolded, but the weather witch couldn't help but wonder if it was time to put the dragon on a leash. She was clearly not making good decisions when left to her own devices, and while no one complained when she terrorized the starlings or seagulls that infested the city, other people's pets were over the line.

Still, the unplanned chat had taken time, and now she was late and hurrying to get to where she needed to go. The spot they were to have met was empty when she got there, and Tris went on to the first place they had decided to visit that morning. Keth and Thomas where there, speaking with the stall keeper as they accepted several packages wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine.

"There you are," Keth said with a smile as she approached. He held his arms as though expecting a hug, but she stopped just out of reach when her conversation with Briar the day before popped into the back of her head. "I was getting worried." He didn't seem to mind the missed hug and, instead, settled for reaching over and stroking Chime on her neck. The dragon preened under the attention.

"Had to speak to an angry neighbor," she replied as she gave the stall keeper a polite nod. "Master Harding, good morning."

"Good morning, Mistress Moss," he replied with an equally polite bow. "And to the lovely Chime. Is there anything I can get for you this morning?"

"I already got it, thank you sir, it was a pleasure doing business with you," Keth said as he took Tris' arm and guided her further down the road. "I already knew how much you planned to get, so I went ahead and ordered it for you," he said, clearly pleased with himself as he began to head to their next stop.

"Wait, what?" The weather witch quickly reclaimed her arm, not missing the startled look the shopkeeper have given her at Keth's presumptive behavior. She stepped to the side out of traffic, and Keth followed as she asked, "How much did you get?"

"What was on the paper last night," he replied calmly, motioning to the packages Thomas held behind them. "You can pay me back later; it's not a problem." He reached for her arm again, and she took a step away from him.

"No, it is a problem," she said tersely. "I was going to get a third of what I had decided after looking at it again later."

"But why? That's ridiculous; you need the full amount to do-" The look on Tris' face was one he recognized, and the glassmaker immediately fell silent at it. She didn't have the money. Hastily, he cleared his throat and went on. "Oh. Right. Then my mistake, don't worry about it. Besides, the teacher is supposed to help their students pay for supplies, and technically, you are still my glassmaking student." It seemed a brilliant piece of logic to him. Perhaps he could use it more often, to help her purchase what she needed.

"Keth, I can't do that," Tris said, Briar's words once more ringing in her ears. Her voice lowered as she added, "Besides, I can't afford the rest of the supplies at that amount either, so it's useless to get so much when I don't need it immediately."

Speaking before thinking had never served him well. Unfortunately, it wasn't a mistake he had learned from yet.

"Really? I thought Briar was more generous than that."

For such small hands, they were surprisingly strong. Her palm left a red mark on his face where it had struck, and as she tried to hide how much said hand hurt she glared up at him. For a moment lightning raced along her braids, then it died away as abruptly as it had appeared. Without a word, the mage turned and left. Chime, however, turned and glared a warning as clear as any. Do not follow, or there will be consequences.

"Well," Thomas said after a moment, still carrying the wrapped packages. "I did try and warn you..."

The cuff he received was barely hard enough to be felt, and Thomas accepted it for the rebuke he had earned. Even if Tris was his sister, he was being disrespectful to his master.

"Come on," said Keth after a moment more, his face a mask of calm. "Let's go finish our shopping."

-090-

Daja was passing through the house when Tris came home, Chime twined anxiously about her neck and crooning in distress as sparks danced among Tris' braids.

"What happened?" the smith-mage asked as she stopped her sister with a hand on her shoulder.

" _Men_ ," Tris replied in a voice that could have cut stone. "Men, and their stupid, gods-cursed _pride_."

Daja considered that, and then asked, "Do I want to know?"

"No, and I don't want to talk about it either," her sister said more quietly, her temper draining away quickly as it usually did after a flare.

"Then let's go practice," the smith mage suggested cheerfully. "We won't be able to tonight, Briar's not transplanting anything, and we don't want him to get suspicious, if you're still trying to keep this a secret."

"Don't you have something else you need to do?" the weather mage asked, surprise momentarily quieting the flames of her anger.

"Nothing that can't wait," Daja assured her with a smile. "I finished my last big commission, and I'm just waiting to hear that the mansion is ready for it to be installed. I was going to do some fancy work for the stall but hadn't started because I was tackling the letters that have been piling up on my desk. Besides, it'll calm you down and then you can hopefully figure out what you need to do next." A thought occurred to her, and she added carefully, "It's not Briar, is it?"

"No, it's not," Tris said quickly. "And I think I've done as much as I intend to do about it for now." Gingerly, she massaged her left hand with the right. "Hitting people _hurts_."

Daja's smile widened, and she nodded in understanding. "Yeah, it almost makes it not worth it when you think about it. Come on, let's go practice."

-090-

The dancing had helped more than Tris had thought, and she felt mostly at peace as she left Daja's workroom. Was it possible to meditate and dance at the same time? A question to ask Yazmin the next time she saw the dancer. She met Briar in the hall, and something in his face made the calm feeling evaporate instantly.

"Why," he asked quietly. "Is there is a present for you in the front hall from Keth with a note on top of it?"

Tris could have probably dispersed the whole thing then with a few short sentences but something in his tone made her rebel. Yes, they were married, and yes, he was the husband, but she owed him no explanations for anything she did. Being married did not make her any less her own person, and since their marriage was not even real, she felt his tone and obvious anger were completely out of line.

Instead of answering, she walked past him to the front. There, waiting near the door, was a large package with several smaller ones on top along with a small bundle of flowers and a folded, sealed note.

She opened the note first, reading it to herself and keeping the paper turned so that Briar could not see. When she was done, she closed it again, putting it in her pocket and picking up the flowers to examine them. They were posies and already wilting in the heat of the day. They were not a flower she cared for, but she deposited them in a vase nonetheless. One of the maids happened to be passing by, and she politely asked the woman to add water to it and put it on her bedside table. The maid agreed and bore it away.

Something inside Briar broke.

"Tris," he asked in a voice that was just short of shouting. "What is going on?"

"That," she replied coldly. "Is none of your business."

"Why is Keth sending you flowers?" he asked heatedly, anger turning his face red.

"As an apology," she said with a calm she did not feel.

"For what?" Anger was replaced by suspicion, and Tris liked it no better than it's brother.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," she told him loftily. "I've already slapped him and that's the end of it."

Briar blinked as though he was the one struck. "And why did you have to slap him?" he asked, his voice becoming dangerously quiet.

The weather witch attempted to walk past him with an off-hand. "It's not your business."

The young man caught his wife by the arm, hissing, "I'm your _husband_ -"

"Yes, you are," she cut in frostily. "So what? That does not entitle you to anything."

"What did he buy you?" Briar asked, pointing to the packages in the hall.

"The mage supplies that I needed," she replied, pulling her arm free of his grasp.

Again, the plant mage paused as though he'd taken a blow to the gut. "So you'll let _him_ buy you want you need but not me," he said in a too-quiet voice that grew with each word. "You're married to _me_ , but you won't let me help you. You asked _him_ to instead. Do you want this plan to fail? Do you want to leave with your parents? I gave up a _year_ -"

"No one asked you to," Tris shot back, her cold facade finally starting to crack. "In fact, I quite clearly remember telling you this was a mistake. Obviously, I was right."

"So you do love him." Something about the way Briar said those words almost made his wife stop. But she was too angry now, and she couldn't help what came next from her mouth.

"No, I don't. But you aren't happy married to me, and you're regretting this." It was an accusation.

When he didn't deny it, tears pricked her eyes. "That's not the point! This-!" He waved a hand at the packages at the hall. "We talked about this last night! Do you just not care at this point?"

"It's not like they're bad people; we agreed on that much," his wife replied, assuming her frosty tone once more. "Would it be so bad for me to leave with them for a year? Honestly, I don't know why I let you talk me into this fool's game in the first place. What could they have done to me that I couldn't protect myself from? I was going to be gone a year anyways. Does it matter where I spent it? At least then, I wouldn't be dealing with you and Keth snapping at each other like dogs!"

"If you'd just let me support you like I'm supposed to, none of this would be a problem!" her husband shouted back, pointing to the supplies in the hall once more.

"Oh, so I'm supposed to sit in a corner like a good girl and let you hand me your purse when I ask for it." The acid in her words could have etched stone.

"That's not how it works, and you know it. We've always shared and shared alike in our circle. How is this different?" Briar's voice was almost back at a reasonable level as he added, "Lakik's teeth, we'd probably never pay you back, if we actually kept score! How many times have you saved us? All of us know how we really escaped Namorn and how we survived the boom stone that almost hit the cottage."

It was the wrong thing to say. "Oh, so you keep me around for my ability to win mage fights and perform war magic," Tris said with false cheer. "Lovely. And that makes it alright for me to take your money."

"That's not what I said!" he snapped sharply.

"That's what I heard," she replied the same syrup-sweet voice.

With a wordless cry of frustration, the plant mage stormed out of the room, heading for his workshop and slamming the door behind him.

Tris waited only until she was sure he was not coming out again before she straightened her dress and walked calmly up the stairs. It wasn't until she was in her library, safely ensconced in one of the chairs with the door locked behind her that she allowed herself to cry.

-090-

Daja had learned early on that it was best to stay out of it when Tris and Briar fought. Neither was particularly discriminating when waging a war of words and would take any target offered, even if it wasn't currently participating in the fight. It had taken Sandry a little longer to figure that out, but by the time the group had split apart to travel, the usual way things would run had been worked out to everyone's satisfaction.

Briar and Tris would fight. Sometimes, it would be a small fight, sometimes a big fight, but it would explode out either way and there would be yelling and gnashing of teeth. Afterwards, everything would go quiet, and it was now safe to approach one or the other without losing limbs. You could talk about anything except whatever the fight was about, and eventually, the pair would have a talk (usually on the roof) and be done.

So when Daja had felt the fight building through their bond, she had quickly put up her mental shields and shut the door to her workroom. Their hired help knew better than to get in the way of it, and when it was done, she'd see how bad it was.

An hour later, she lowered her mental walls and 'glanced' around. The fight was done, but Briar was still almost incandescent with rage. Tris was quieter, but the spikes and lances of anger still coming from her end too closely resembled lightning for Daja to draw any closer. A bad one then. She debated asking a maid what had been said—it was likely everyone had heard every word in the house—but decided not to in favor of hoping it was done by dinner.

It was not done by dinner. Daja took one look at her stony-faced dining companions and sighed. The delicious food was spoiled by the tense atmosphere and not even the berry tarts with fresh cream at the end was able to dispel it in the least. Briar excused himself before he'd taken more than two bites and went back out to the gardens alone. Tris watched him go with a blank face before setting her own aside, her appetite gone as well.

"Well," Daja said as she pushed her own half-eaten dessert to the side. "He won't be back for awhile I wager. Do you want to get in another practice?" She half expected her sister to say no, but didn't know what else to say.

"Yes," the weather witch said as she rose slowly to her feet. "I'm restless, and it will keep my mind off of...other things."

So they went to the smith's workroom.

Tris had thought the practice would distract her. She never seemed to be able to focus on anything else when dancing, and now, she couldn't seem to focus on it at all. Somehow, her feet still knew what to do, and Daja raised a brow as she completed a turn the smith-mage hadn't warned her about.

"You're getting it," her sister said with a smile. "You know what I'm going to do next without thinking about it."

"That's because you do the same thing every time you do it," Tris replied with a frown. "When we spin, you turn your hand just so. When I'm to step out, you push upwards on my right hand."

Daja beamed in pleasure, then the practice was helping both of them. "That's what a good lead does. They cue you, physically, and you respond without having to think about it. What does Briar do different?"

Tris scowled, and muttered, "You should know, he dances with you too."

"I know, but I want to see if you know," the Trader woman said patiently. "This practicing will help, but it won't do any good if you can't tell what his cues mean."

She didn't want to think about Briar, but her sister made sense. It had been awhile since they had danced together, but she had rarely had other partners to confuse him with. "He keeps more pressure on his fingertips," she said after a moment of silence. "And he tends to be a little more firm with his arms." She prefered the firmness, she realized, but didn't say so to her partner.

Daja's grin was wry, as though she had guessed her thoughts. "Yes, that's one of the things I'm suppose to work on. What else?"

"His lead offs are like yours," Tris replied, referring to the way both would twist their hand slightly when leading a partner down a promenade. "Or yours are like his."

"I stole it from him," the smith admitted with a proud grin. "It makes your partner's arm turn at an angle that makes it easy to admire their figure without appearing to stare." She winked, and the weather witch couldn't help but grin back.

"You're as bad as he is," she told her dance partner with mock seriousness.

"Given how many ladies like him, I will take that as a compliment," Daja replied with a nod.

At that, Tris frowned, and Daja inwardly sighed. "Did I say something I shouldn't have?"

"No," her sister said as they continued to turn in a circle. "I'm just wondering if Briar really is regretting this."

Something about the way the weather witch said it made something click in the smith's head, and she asked, "Why? You aren't sleeping with him, are you?"

"What? No!" the copper haired woman sputtered in surprise, "Why would you think that?"

Daja shrugged, and said, "Then what does he have to regret? You spoil him and give him a far looser leash than most married men."

"Well, he doesn't seem particularly happy about it to me," Tris sniffed, cheeks still flushed from before.

"Which is, of course, absolutely no fault of yours," the dark-skinned woman replied, her teeth flashing white as she grinned.

Her companion had no response for that. After a awhile, she said, "He had no right acting like I'm his property." The Trader didn't speak but, instead, kept time in her head for their steps as she waited to see if there would be more. "Being married doesn't make you one person," Tris added more quietly. "And this marriage isn't even a real one, so he shouldn't expect me to act like it is simply because he wants me to." The young woman sighed and said more to herself, "Or maybe I'm just not meant to be in a couple. All I seem to do is the wrong thing, and we're just _pretending_."

"Tris," Daja said as she kept dancing, looking down at her sister. "There is no perfect couple. Or at least I don't believe there is. I don't think we're built like locks with one key that will fit perfectly and one key only. Learning to be with someone, and live with them every day, is hard no matter who it is. Rosethorn and Lark have been together for years, and they still don't agree on everything. I think the ability to try and compromise is more important than how well you fit together to begin with. I hope if I ever find someone like that again, that I will be mature enough to know that I have faults. That I will love her enough, whoever she is, to ask for forgiveness when I need it, and she will love me enough to give it."

The weather witch thought about that as her feet kept time, her thoughts clearly elsewhere as her partner led her through simple turns and twirls. "I suppose," she said after a time, "that's very good advice regardless of the kind of relationship. I'm sorry to cut this short, but..."

The Trader's brows rose in surprise. "Are you sure it's a good idea to talk to him right now?"

"Oh, Mila no," Tris replied with a faint smile. "With what I said...he might stay angry until tomorrow morning. But I have some packages I need to send back, including some posies I need to remove from my room before the smell lingers."

"I don't know what any of that has to do with it," Daja replied as she let her go with a slight bow. "But I'll let you get to it if it's important."

"It is."

Rod had not left yet, thankfully, and was happy to load everything up into the cart and hitch the donkey. Tris had a note for him by the time he was done and thanked him for his help.

Then, she went upstairs and waited.

-090-

When Briar finally came upstairs that night, it was late and Tris was already in bed with the lights out. Something about how still her body was told him she wasn't asleep as he picked up his sleep clothes and sat on the edge of the bed. Chime peeked down at him from her hammock above the bed before going still once more.

"Can we talk?" he asked hesitantly as he turned to look at his sister. His wife.

She turned to meet his eyes, then reached out one small, nail-bitten hand. He took it, and suddenly, they were standing on the roof of Discipline Cottage in the secret place he had built just for them.

 _It seemed appropriate_ , she said as she sat on the top of the peaked roof, tucking her feet under her as she did. Now, she wore an old, familiar navy dress she'd had when they first gotten her out of that archaic black she'd been forced to wear by her relations. He sat next to her, realizing he'd reverted to an old pair of buff pants and a loose shirt he'd gotten for working in the gardens with Rosethorn. They weren't quite touching, but with neither radiating anger anymore, it was a comfortable space.

 _I think_ , Briar said slowly as he watched the clouds move slowly overhead. _That I probably overreacted today. I'm sorry._

 _I was no better_ , Tris replied with a twist of her lips. _I knew I was making you mad, and I did it anyway. I'm sorry for that. You're right; you did give up a year to do this, and I shouldn't be doing anything to upset the plan._

 _You're right too,_ he said as he leaned slightly against her. _Whatever happened isn't my business. Being married to me doesn't make you my property, and you are still free to do what you want and accept what you want from who you want. That would be true even if this were...you know. I shouldn't be sticking my 'neb' where it isn't wanted._

 _That hasn't stopped you in the past,_ she reminded him, an edge of teasing to her voice.

 _That was different. I should have listened when you told me to let it go._ He settled in more comfortably next to her, pulling a piece of straw and twirling it between his fingers so he would have something to look at besides her as he asked, _Did you start your new molds?_

 _No, I sent it all back. Including the flowers._ She didn't miss the way his shoulders relaxed, and she added, _I didn't ask Keth to buy me anything, and I sent a note with it saying he can't buy my forgiveness with gifts. I slapped him because when I told him that I didn't have the money to buy as much as I thought I wanted he implied you were being ungenerous. He had no right._

Briar almost laughed in relief. His smile, though, he couldn't have hidden if he'd wanted to. _I'm sorry I assumed that you asked for the supplies. I should have known better._

 _Yes, you should, but I'm sorry I didn't correct you. I should have._ Tris paused, tapping her fingers together in thought before going on. _I also think you may have been right about something else. I think marrying Keth would have been bad for both of us in the long run._

His smugness wasn't remotely subtle, but she didn't mind. _He only sent you your least favorite flowers ever._

 _I'm more upset that he thinks buying me the very thing we were arguing about is going to make things better,_ Tris replied dryly. _But yes, the posies were not a good choice either. I think, much like taking vows at the temple, it is a decision I would have regretted much longer than I would have been thankful for the protection it would have given me._

 _I think even a marriage of convenience wouldn't end well if you aren't suited to each other,_ Briar agreed with a small smile. _And for the record, this wasn't a mistake. I still don't regret this._

The weather witch snorted, and she replied, _Even with the one 'hang up'?_

 _I met a man traveling who couldn't eat things made of wheat; it made his skin break out in a rash. He said at first not eating it was hard. It was all he thought about. But after awhile, he stopped wanting it all together._ The words were spoken simply, but he was refusing to look at her again. Tris wouldn't have believed the implication, even if he had.

 _I don't believe for a moment that you're ready to take a vow of chastity simply to stay married to me,_ she told him dryly, and he did laugh.

 _I'm not,_ he admitted with a shrug. _But I haven't met anyone I'd want to bed so badly that I'd mess things up here for it._ Or to be more specific, he hadn't seen anyone he'd want to bed at all, besides Tris. But that didn't count. _Besides, I've gotten used to sleeping by someone who doesn't snore. Most women who do lie about it, like I said before, so even when I am free to sleep where I like, it'll be hard to find someone who suits me as well as you do on that score._

 _A crowning achievement I shall cherish always, being a woman who doesn't snore._ The mock solemnity was spoiled by the grin on her lips.

 _As you should._ He could not more keep a straight face than she, though, and soon, they were laughing quietly together.

Tris considered bringing up Keth; there was more than needed to be discussed. Or she thought there might be, though she wasn't sure what. But Briar seemed content just to sit next to her on the roof, one arm looped comfortably around her shoulders, and she decided that, for now, it was enough.

 _I'm tired,_ he said after a long silence had passed, _and I think you are too. Meet you back in our room?_

Something about that phrase, 'our room', warmed Tris through, and after agreeing, she followed a moment later. He was already in the bathroom changing, and when he crawled into bed beside her, she let him draw her close with an arm about her waist. Everything was back to normal.

-090-

Briar was ensconced in his workroom, finishing a last-minute request for a specific perfume from his favorite seller. Daja and Tris were taking advantage of his absence to squeeze in one final practice. Daja hummed tunelessly as they stepped together around the room, keeping time for them as Tris tried to follow a dance she'd never done before. The Trader hadn't needed to ask if everything had been settled between her siblings; the fact that they were talking amicably as they came down the stairs that morning had been telling enough.

It was the smith mage's idea of a final test, and Tris couldn't disagree. If she could manage this, then even if a dance came up that Briar knew but she didn't she should be able to follow him through it. She was managing relatively well thus far, though she had missed a few details of some of the turns and bows the first time through. Those weren't as important, though, as keeping one's feet on rhythm and in the right place, and in that respect, she was feeling almost confident enough to consider an evening of dancing without dread.

"And...done." Daja said as they finished the final set and went back into the start position once more. "Well done, Tris. I think you're a better dancer than you give yourself credit for."

Her sister flushed with pride, but shook her head as she said, "To be fair, it's probably hard to know for certain when you hardly dance."

"You could have danced more; you had opportunities," Daja pointed out as she began to set her workroom back to rights.

Tris helped, and together they moved one of the small tables back to the center of the room. "Yes, well, unless you're fabulously beautiful, graceful, or rich, the only boys who ask are the ones who can't get the fabulously beautiful, graceful, or rich to say yes. They tend to step on your feet most of the time and smell bad. It makes dancing altogether less than pleasant."

The taller sister laughed, and said,"That's fair. For tonight, though, I think you're set and so am I." Tris' questioning look made Daja blush, and she added sheepishly, "I might have been using your practice for my benefit as well."

Pale brows rose in curious surprise. "Who is she?"

"A dancer," Daja admitted with an abashed grin, "so I didn't want to disgrace myself leading her around the room."

"One of Yazmin's?" Tris guessed, enjoying the way the Trader's cheeks darkened slightly. She must really be blushing for it to be that obvious, she thought.

"Yes," the smith said, clearing her throat. "She introduced us as the last ball, and I couldn't work up the nerve to ask. She turned down every man who asked her that night, so I didn't ask. I thought she didn't like to dance with novices. Turns out she just...doesn't like men."

"Then I wish you luck." The kiss on the cheek was a welcome surprise, and Daja couldn't help reflecting how her sister was slowly becoming more physically affectionate as of late. Hm. "Thank you for your help," the weather witch said as she headed for the door.

"Are you going to tell Briar you've been practicing?" her sister asked, genuinely curious.

"I haven't decided yet," Tris replied as she stopped with her hand on the knob. "He may have decided not to dance as much...or I may not be able to dance as long as I think I will...I don't want to disappoint him." The excuses were just that, excuses, and thin ones as best.

Daja just smiled and said, "He wouldn't be disappointed."

Her sister flushed, refusing to meet her eyes as she said, "We'll see."

 _Aha_ , Daja thought as she watched the door close behind her.

And still not her business.

-090-

Niko Goldeye's table was immaculate, even when he was not present to preside over it. The mage had begged off on another invitation before the ball, and Darra and Valden sat alone with Thomas, enjoying a quiet and intimate meal with their son. Thomas was still a little young for such entertainments and would remain at Niko's residence to wait for the adults to return. There was plenty there to keep a young mind busy without wandering into trouble. Chime was there to keep him company, having been allowed to accompany the lad home when the pair had been inseparable all day, and Niko had a wide collection of glass ornaments Thomas had been given permission to look at. That, with an impressive library to explore and gardens to wander, Valden didn't think the boy would have trouble keeping himself occupied.

"She _slapped_ him?" Darra asked in surprise as the boy went on relating his story from the other day. "Right there in the street?"

"I'm not sure what he said," Thomas added carefully, stroking the glass dragon settled in his lap. His mother no longer flinched when she saw it but still had to suppress a shudder from time to time when those too-intelligent eyes focused on her. "I wasn't paying that much attention, but I think they were talking about money." After a moment's thought, he added, "I'm not sure he likes her being married to Briar."

"And how do you feel about that?" Valden asked, genuinely curious given the unusual circumstances.

"I don't know," the boy said, propping his chin in one hand as he gave the question some consideration. "I like Master Keth. He's an amazing craftsman, and I want to learn everything I can from him. I also like Briar. He's easy to talk to, and he's really nice to Tris. And I feel like their not liking each other is hurting Tris. I don't like that."

"Well, all three are grown adults and will have to figure it out without you meddling," Darra said as she reached over to grip her youngest's ear warningly. "And I do mean that this time. No more disrespecting Master Keth; he's been very lenient with you but he has our permission to use a switch if you need it, young man."

"Yes, mother." He winced as she tightened her hold warningly, but she let go a moment later and turned back to her meal.

"I do hope you're feeling up to dancing, dear," Darra went on as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. "It's been ages since we've had the opportunity, and I believe it would make me very happy to take several turns about the room."

"I suppose I can rise to the occasion," Valden replied with a crooked smile. "Although, I'm surprised you don't simply kidnap Briar for the evening. I imagine he is as light on his feet as any young man."

"I had considered it, but mentioned to Tris that perhaps she should try to keep up with him instead. I am hoping she took me up on my advice, and one might consider it another way to determine the 'truth'." She glanced in Thomas' direction warningly, but her husband needed no further hint.

"Ah, as in if she does so..." He spread his hands wide, as though to say voila!

"It makes it more likely, yes," she agreed smoothly, watching as their son tasted one of the more exotic dishes at the table. "And I believe we can look at his response as a testament in and of itself. Most young men are poor at hiding their enthusiasm, or lack thereof, for anything."

Thomas glanced up then, and she wondered if she had said too much. "Who are you talking about?" he asked, looking confused.

"Never you mind," Valden replied as he motioned for the waiter to serve the next course. "Why don't you tell me about this new technique you observed being done. Adding color using...fret?"

"Frit, tiny bits of ground glass," Thomas replied eagerly. "It went like this-"

-090-

Author's Notes:

Which brings us neatly to: The Ball! That's right, the entire 20+ page chapter coming next will be devoted to the Emelan social event of the season. So, for this one final time I will offer The Bargain: 20 reviews, and it will be posted immediately. I already have it uploaded to , just waiting to be posted. I promise you, it is most definitely worth it. :) For those of you wondering, getting a chapter early does not mean you don't get a chapter on Friday. You will. So receiving 20 reviews means Chapter 13 posted early, and Chapter 14 going up on Friday like usual.

Also: I do have dancing experience, but it is mainly swing dancing. So, if any of you ball room enthusiasts out there are thinking 'that's not right for a waltz' or whatever, you're probably right. But I don't waltz or any other ballroom dance, leading or following, so I can't really say how it differs from swing. Things that I miss from college: Swing Time Saturdays!

Finally: While your Friday update or early update (whichever happens) will not be late, due to some unforeseen extra work headed my way review replies may not happen as quickly as usual for the next week or two. I prefer to do them on my laptop, versus my phone, so if I don't get back to you please know you aren't forgotten and I will reply eventually.

Thanks everyone, and a special thanks to everyone who reviewed!

~CB~


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

As Briar was busy working right up until moments before the ball, Tris prepared herself early before settling in the dining room to wait. Indeed, the plant mage left his own ablutions so long that he was literally trotting down the steps while tying up his sleeves when the coach pulled up to the front. Daja, resplendent in a deep purple tunic and hose, had already complimented Tris on her navy blue gown when he entered. When his wife noticed him still trying to get his collar to lie right over his tunic, she settled it with practiced fingers, and Daja teased him on his tardiness before the housekeeper informed them that their conveyance was waiting out front.

Briar didn't really have a chance to admire Tris in her gown until he was handing her into the coach, the weather witch taking the seat opposite their sister and leaving him to pick who he wished to sit beside. He chose his wife, of course, as any good husband would, and settled in beside her as the door was closed and their conveyance lurched into motion. Still, he watched her out of the corner of his eye as the vehicle rolled along.

Tris had rebraided her hair, he could tell, and neatly tucked it into a more intricate pattern than usual for the ball. Her marriage collar lay in place, as it always did, but the glass drops and flat metal links shone as though they had been polished clean. Her underdress was a deep navy blue, with the overdress laced up the sides and halfway up the front of a dark grey. It was simple, but it suited her perfectly, and therefore, he liked it.

His compliment was not met the usual amount of snark, and the plant mage turned to their companion instead. The smith mage was usually easy to speak to, but for once, her attention seemed somewhere else. After three questions in a row were answered with short, single-word answers Briar gave up and sat back to watch the road outside. Eventually, Daja seemed to come back to herself from whatever thoughts she had been lost in and asked Briar how his work had gone. Talk of magecraft kept the silence at bay until they arrived at the steps of the Citadel. Briar hopped out first, handing his wife down before Daja descended on her own.

The ball was one Tris would normally have avoided. Most of Emelan's elite had turned out for the occasion, and the walkway was packed as they made their way to the doors. A wedding among the noble families two days before had swelled the city's population, and it showed as dozens of faces the mages did not know surrounded them along the way. The plant mage quickly tucked her arm in his, and Daja took her other side, as they forged a path among the rest to the top.

Despite the crowd, Briar was excited. He had long ago made a habit of going to every event involving dancing that Yazmin and Sandry orchestrated, if he could. They were always a lot of fun, and it guaranteed his sister would have one sibling on hand to rescue her when she needed it. That assumed, of course, that he wasn't pursuing his own ends with some pretty somewhere else, but he could usually be depended on for help, if she really needed it. He loved to dance, and even if Tris would not be interested in taking every advantage of the excellent orchestra, he could enjoy the music and perhaps convince her to take a turn or two more around the floor than usual. Only one or two, though, it wouldn't be fair to pester her.

Together the trio arrived at the top of the stairs leading to the ballroom. Daja allowed the married couple to descend first, arm-in-arm and step-in-step. She followed a little ways behind and had to hide a smile when Briar gallantly swept Tris to the side of the stairs where her parents waited and bowed in a courtly sweep.

"Master and Mistress Chandler," he said with great dignity. "Good evening."

"Good evening," Valden replied with a more formal bow. "Trisana. Briar."

The weather witch curtsied and accepted the gesture when her mother moved to kiss her on the cheek. It was a more formal greeting than was strictly required, but none of them were yet comfortable with familiarity. It seemed safest.

"You are lovely, my dear," Darra said as she surveyed her daughter. "And you, Briar, have cleaned up very nicely as well."

"I do wash all the dirt of every now and then," he said cheerfully, and Tris smothered a smile as her mother laughed.

"The Lady Sandrilene was here only a moment before," Valden said as he glanced around the milling crowds surrounding them. "I am not sure where she went now."

"Probably to see to some detail that no one else could see to," Briar said with teasing fondness. "Daja was with us though..." He was surprised to find she was not with them now and glanced around to see where she may have gotten to in the crowd.

"She has her own plans for the evening," Tris replied, having spied their sister slipping into the usual group from Yazmin's school. She wished luck in her direction and left the smith mage to it. "We might see her later this evening."

"Oh."

Quiet fell as the orchestra began to play and a space opened up in the center of the dancing floor. The Duke stepped forward, Sandry on his arm as he welcomed everyone to his gathering and bid them to help themselves to the food and drink as they wished. As was proper, he opened the dancing with his niece, and soon, a sizable group joined in the simple line dance that started the night.

Valden and Darra split from their daughter and son-in-law when a business contact found them and invited them to meet some of his venture partners. Briar took Tris' arm as they left, and they began a slow walk along the outside of the room. He looked only once at the dancers as the musicians started up the second song, then turned to Tris and asked, "Where would you like to go now? I hear the council is putting a display on in the gardens. It would, at least, get us into the fresh air."

"You don't want to dance?" Tris replied with surprise.

Briar shrugged, pretending indifference though he could feet his toes tapping in time to the music inside his boots. Before he could respond, Daja was there with a drink in one hand and a smile on her face.

"You," she told Tris as she kissed her sister on the cheek. "Are a wonder. She said yes." _And you,_ she added privately to Briar, _had better ask her to dance. She's been practicing all week._

Briar started at that and glanced down at Tris who was congratulating Daja on something that the plant mage wasn't sure about but didn't seem important next to this new piece of information. When Daja moved on, practically skipping as she walked, he asked, "Would you like to dance?" Something about the way he said it made Tris pause.

"Are you asking me to dance?" she replied, looking up at his quizzically.

"Yes," he said, feeling the fool for his stumbling tongue.

Her small smile was still worth it. "Then, yes."

The waltz was an easy one, and Briar masterfully inserted them into the rotation as he took Tris' hand in his and turned her in a graceful arc.

Daja had been right, Tris mused as she counted the steps in her head but mostly relaxed and took her cues from Briar. It wasn't so much knowing what was coming next as it was trusting your partner had that covered and all you had to do was follow. And Briar was very easy to follow. His hands were firm but not confining or controlling. And she in turn kept a slight tension in her own arms, giving him a greater ability to guide her where he wished.

"You _have_ been practicing," he said with smile as they came through a particular difficult passage of steps without mishap.

Tris flushed and looked away as his smile grew. "Daja told you," she said, her voice mildly annoyed.

"I wasn't going to ask you to dance," he replied honestly. "Well, not much more than usual. I thought you hated dancing."

She shrugged, and said, "Only with the wrong partner, it seems."

"And what I am?" he asked, a smug grin growing on his face.

She glanced at him once, then quickly away again as his grin grew all the more. "Not the wrong partner," she said, refusing to give in so easily. Honesty made her add, "I know how much you enjoy it, and my mother suggested it as a surprise. She was quite adamant about it, and it seemed a wise to follow her advice."

"So you practiced," he said, picking out the only part of her words that actually mattered to him. "For me."

"For appearance's sake... and your feet and my pride," she clarified, feeling as though she needed to justify herself.

"Still for me," Briar said with unabated pleasure.

"Yes," she agreed, rolling her eyes halfheartedly though a smile still tugged at her lips. "For you."

The plant mage didn't think he could smile any wider without splitting his face. "How long do you think you could go for?" he asked, an idea forming in the back of his mind. Not that it was anything more than another attempt to persuade her parents, he told himself.

"Why?" his wife asked as she met his eyes, suspicion clear in her own.

"A besotted young husband has every right to monopolize his new bride, hm?" he said, winking conspiratorially and getting a suppressed smile in return. "Besides," he added in a whisper as he leaned closer, "if I keep you to myself, then you really did practice just for me."

She blushed and looked away again, but he could feel her pleasure through the bond nonetheless. "I'll keep up," she said after a while. "If you don't ask me to do anything ridiculous."

"Promise." He smiled all the more, she flushed even brighter, and together they danced on.

Tris wasn't a brilliant dancer. To say otherwise would have been lying. But in Briar's mind, she was perfect all the same. She wasn't trying to be fancy, so her movements never disagreed with his own. She was paying attention to his cues without being stiff or fish-handed (he hated dancing with fish-handed women), and she didn't seem to mind that he was keeping his steps relatively simple. He wasn't kidding; he really did intend to monopolize her all night and that meant pacing himself to be certain he could make it to the end.

When the first dance ended, Briar paused long enough to clap politely with everyone else before taking up Tris' hand again to sweep her around the floor once more. They were passed this time by her mother and father. Valden was all stern concentration and her mother teasing delight. Tris was briefly glad she was not the one who had to lead.

"Do you want to lead?" Briar asked lightly, and she realized she'd unintentionally voiced her thoughts aloud. "I've danced with girls who've insisted on it before. It's a little awkward at first, but we could probably figure it out."

"Mila, no," Tris replied quickly. "Daja tried to explain it to me, and I think I prefer where am, thank you."

"Do you really?" Briar asked, a mischievous light dancing in his eyes.

She did not miss the double meaning in his words, but said simply, "Yes." He beamed all the more, and she felt the growing warmth in her chest swell a little in response.

The plant mage, though, was not content to dance in silence. He spoke on light topics, commenting on the people around them in ways that made her laugh and encouraged her to add comments of her own. It was simple, like the steps of their dance, but engaging all the same.

By the fourth dance, though, the weather witch was flagging and, in truth, so was her husband. He danced often but rarely without cease. As the current sonata drew to a close, he guided them deftly to a far edge near the open doors to the gardens. The breeze coming in helped cool flushed faces, and Briar took drinks from a passing waiter for them to sip as they caught their breath.

"Still enjoying yourself?" he asked as he finished his juice first.

Tris glanced up at him and admitted, "Surprisingly, yes."

"Surprised my presence is enjoyable?" he said in self-inflicted mockery.

"No, I already knew that," Tris replied lightly, and he felt his smile grow a little more. "Surprised I haven't gotten bored," she clarified with a shrug. "I hadn't expected to actually enjoy being monopolized."

Briar couldn't help preening a little as he asked, "Am I just that magnificent of a partner?"

"Hm." His wife's tone turned dry as she said, "I am the envy of half the room."

"And I the other half," he said with complete seriousness.

The snort of derision was loud enough to attract the attention of others around them. "Hardly," Tris told him flatly. Briar considered arguing his point but quickly chose a different tactic.

"You know, I've always wanted to do this," he said as he kept her hand on his arm and their heads close together. Only someone familiar or rude would interrupt a couple walking together so, and he wasn't ready to share her just yet. "Dance with just one special girl the whole night."

"Why didn't you?" she asked, her voice quiet as talk and laughter swirled around them.

"I never found anyone I liked well enough," he replied with a shrug. "And doing so would have been promising more than I planned to give. I'll flirt and dance and smile at a girl, but I won't make and break promises."

"I know," she said, pressing his arm gently as she finished her drink. "Otherwise, I would not have married you."

It wasn't the fact that he had spotted Keith heading their way, Briar told himself as he set their cups aside and and offered her his hand again. He was rested, and he thought Tris was too. Tweaking the glass maker's nose was just a pleasant bonus.

She didn't complain when they whirled off again, back among the other couples on the floor. This time, when they paused two dances later, it was for the musicians to take an extended break, and they found themselves back at the front of the great hall. A waiter quickly appeared to offer them chilled juice, and both gratefully accepted as Briar took Tris' free hand and tucked it in the crook of his arm once more. It felt right, doing so, and his companion didn't protest.

"Still not bored?" he asked as they slowly paced the perimeter of the dancing area to regain their breath.

"No," she agreed honestly. "There is something different each round. Although, I still don't care for how stuffy it gets in here."

"In the fall, as the weather cools, there are some held entirely out of doors in the gardens. Perhaps we'll come to one of them," he said as though they would still be together in the fall.

"Perhaps," the weather witch said, unwilling to break the spell that had been cast over the evening with reality just yet. In truth, the evening was something of a dream. It wasn't perfect, if it had been she would have been suspicious. She was sweating from the dancing and the heat, but the faint breeze she had kept around for the night made it manageable. She had missed a few steps, and her feet were giving signs that she would be paying for a night of staying on them in the morning. There were too many people around, and most of them were talking too loudly. And despite all of it, it was wonderful.

Tris had danced with Briar before but had always felt his attention had been on the edge of turning somewhere else. What a difference it made when he focused solely on her. She understood better now the women who had thrown themselves at the young man. He was handsome enough—you would have to be blind not to know that—but it wasn't his face they had craved. It was his gift of making the woman he turned his gaze on feel like she was the only one worth having in the world. It was a dangerous gift, his wife decided as she let him guide their slow, even steps, but one that she was forewarned of and, therefore, could safely enjoy without fearing entrapment. She was too logical not to recognize that he was only playing, and so she could play along for her own enjoyment. And to convince her parents, of course.

She had never imagined a ball at which she might dance more than she would sit or that, if it happened, it wouldn't be the butt of someone's idea of a joke. And she intended to allow herself to enjoy every moment of it. Briar was easy to follow and kept the conversation witty and light and made her laugh without losing time. He was pretending, and doing a thoroughly convincing job, that she was the only woman he cared about the room. It was a heady feeling, even if she knew it wasn't real. She would accept it for the gift it was, for the sacrifice he made, and be content that at least she would have one memory of a night being the center of someone else's world.

"Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?" Briar asked on impulse, feeling his ears began to heat.

"Don't you think you should save your best flattery for when others can hear?" she replied, though she refused to meet his gaze as a line of pink appeared along her cheeks.

He managed to catch her eye as he said sincerely, "It isn't flattery when it's true."

"My apologies for interrupting," a voice said from behind. Briar could have killed whoever it was as Tris looked away from him and took a half step back. "But I must steal my teacher for a dance."

"No, I don't think you will be," Briar replied quickly as they turned to face Keth. "I'm monopolizing her tonight, new husband's right." His free hand immediately rested overtop hers on his arm, lacing their fingers together as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Come on, Briar, she would never attend the dances in Tharios," Keth, trying to smile. He turned to Tris; it was the first time they had spoken since their disagreement in the street, and she saw the apology in his eyes and the droop of his shoulders. "This may be my last chance."

"Thankfully, I do not have to give way before an old student," her husband said as the weather witch wondered if it might be wise for her to intervene.

"He's right," a third voice said. "But you do have to give way to me."

Valden stepped into the circle and offered his hand to Tris who, after a moment of hesitation, accepted it. Together, they entered the newly forming couples as the music started up again.

"He is not an easy dancer, but he does try," Darra said as she watched them begin to turn in a slow circle.

Briar had never been one to let an opportunity pass him by. He handed Keth his cup, and the older man took it by instinct more than anything else as Briar said, "Mistress Chandler, would you care to dance?"

"Why yes I would, young man." Darra also handed Keth her cup, and Briar smugly lead her onto the floor leaving the glass mage standing there alone.

"Pleased with yourself, are you?" his mother-in-law asked as the plant mage threw a wicked smirk over his shoulder at the suddenly fuming glass mage.

Briar flashed her a brilliant smile, doing his best impression of a court gallant as he said, "I am dancing with a lovely woman; why wouldn't I be pleased?"

"You are a flatterer," she said in a voice both accusing and teasing.

The wounded sigh he brought forth held the depth of his false pain. "Tris tells me the same thing," he intoned sadly, "but I shall tell you what I tell her. It is not flattery when it is true."

"Oh, very good," Mistress Chandler said, her smile turning coy as she added, "And how do you find your wife this evening?"

The words came easily to his lips. "Beautiful and wonderful and full of surprises," he said with a warm smile. "I believe I have you to thank for part of that."

Darra's brow rose, her lips curling to match his as she demurred with, "I merely encouraged her to consider your feelings on the matter."

"Then your encouragement was most appreciated." The slight bow was executed perfectly in time with their steps. His partner could not help but be impressed.

"Do you have an issue with Master Warder?" she asked, deciding it was time for a change of topic.

"Not an issue per-say," the young mage hedged with a carefully blanked face. "More that it makes a man uneasy when you find out someone else was going to propose to your new wife." It was a safe enough answer, he thought, shoving the tendrils of jealousy that rose up inside to the side. He had nothing to be jealous about.

"You don't think Tris would have prefered to marry him?" The question was calculating, but Briar deflected it by doing what he did best.

"Of course not," he answered with simple sincerity. "I'm much prettier than he is."

Darra laughed; she couldn't help it. Briar merely smiled back, completing the turn even as she put one hand to her mouth and tried to regain control of herself. As she did she spotted Valden and Tris just a few steps away, her husband still dancing stiffly with their daughter. And she was impressed all over again. He had tracked them through the throng, effortlessly, and she hadn't even realized it until now.

"Planning to abandon me already?" she asked as she resumed her steps, nodding in her daughter's direction.

"Alas, my heart belongs to another," he replied cheekily, and she laughed again as the music drew to a close.

"Then you had best reclaim her hand before someone else steals her away," she advised, truly hoping once more that he loved Tris as much as he appeared to. He was a treasure, and they would be well suited to each other. If only she could believe it was real.

"Your wish is my command." He bowed gallantly over her hand, finishing with a courtly leg before turning to reclaim his wife.

Valden calmly gave way when Briar appeared and walked off the dance floor with his beaming wife on his arm.

"I would ask you if you enjoyed yourself," he told her dryly. "But I can tell by your smile you did. He is a fair dancer, then?"

"Yes, and charming and witty too." Valden tries to hide his scowl. "And he has something in common with you."

"Which is?" her husband asked in mild disbelief.

"Jealousy," she said with a quirked smile.

"I am not jealous of him." The words came quickly, but they both knew them for the lie they were.

"I did not choose you for your dancing skills or your charm," she said as she kissed him on the cheek. "I choose you for _you_. And as much as I enjoyed dancing with him, I would not trade him for you, or any other man, had I the pick of the world."

"It might be the only poor decision you ever made." The words were old ones, oft repeated when his pride suffered from delusions of unworthiness.

"Valden..." she said warningly, and he pressed his hand against hers warmly.

"I know."

"Did you enjoy your dance away from me?" Briar asked as they turned in a slow circle in time to the music.

"It wasn't unpleasant," she replied quietly, her gaze thoughtful. "Only...different. It was the first time I've ever danced with my father." Something in her tone was wistful, and Briar drew her a little closer as they turned.

They didn't speak for a time. Briar didn't mind. She was light in his arms, and as long as he kept his lead uncomplicated, she followed step for step. He had danced with...well, a lot of women, honestly. Some had been more graceful or more witty conversationalists or better dressed than Tris. None, however, had seemed to fit so perfectly in his arms. He wondered absently why he'd never noticed before but was distracted when she misstepped and made a face.

"Something wrong?" he asked as she faltered again, and she sighed.

"A loose lace on my shoes," she said simply, and he immediately understood. The current fashion of the last few years called for pointy toed boots of thin leather for women, with a slight heel and a long line of laces from toes to knee. Tris' were a simple dark grey that had been a gift from Daja two years before. She rarely wore them outside of fancy events, but he suspected they were a secret favorite as they were almost always her choice of footwear for such things.

And they were made to dance. The sole had a spot that had been left smooth to allow for easy turns on the ball of one's foot. The heel helped keep the weight on one's toes, and the point provided a surprising amount of stability to keep a dancer from leaning too far in that direction. The laces, while difficult to put on, would help keep the ankles straight and provide support through turns and twists.

He walked past the first set of chairs they came to, instead leading her out one of the doors to the veranda and down a set of steps to the gardens below. There, he found a bench tucked away in a private corner and conducted her to it with a dramatic flourish.

"Your seat, my lady," he said, and she nudged him with her elbow before accepting. "Left or right?"

"Left," she answered without thought and nearly yelped when he dropped to his knees and picked up her foot. "Briar!" she hissed in a strangled voice when she found it again.

"Hold still," he replied as he quickly found the popped lace and tried to work it back into place. "Doting husband, remember?" She tried twisting away from him, but his grip firmed. She could have no more moved his hands than she could have moved a tree. It was the muscles again, she mused in annoyance as she tried not to notice the way his hand felt as it slid up to her calf. It seemed very unfair that he should have so many of them. Of course, a traitorous part of her mind added, he wore them well.

Briar didn't ask why Tris suddenly turned a brilliant scarlet, but he did feel a twinge of satisfaction for some reason. "I can't get it back in place," he said after struggling with the leather lace a few more moments. "I'll have to unlace the top to give me some slack."

"Fine, I can do that," the weather witch said quickly, attempting to take her leg once more.

"Don't be silly," he said as he refused to let go. "I'll do it and when I'm done they won't pop off again. You put them on yourself, didn't you? These are meant for someone else to put on for you." And take off again later, he added to himself.

"It makes me feel like a child to ask for someone else to tie my shoes," she grumbled as she looked away and tried to pretend she wasn't blushing. "How could you tell?"

"The way the laces were twisted, it's why it popped off." He managed to catch her eye and winked as he added, "And no one would mistake you for a child."

Tris could feel the heat rising from her face again and immediately closed her eyes as she desperately tried to ignore the way his hand sliding up the back of her leg felt. Admittedly, closing her eyes probably did not help as there was nothing but her traitorous thoughts behind her eyes to help distract her. Stupid, _stupid_ girl; he's not for you and he doesn't mean it.

Briar was not lingering over his job. He was, however, being thorough, as any gentleman would be. The fact that he was enjoying touching her calf was entirely irrelevant and something he honestly should ignore. Tris wouldn't thank him for thinking about her like that. But, well, tricky thing, laces. With so many in such a neat row, you had to take care being sure they were all properly tight and lying flat. The pressure needed to be the same top to bottom, to be sure the ankle was properly supported. So he pulled and adjusted, checked and rechecked and then checked once more just to be sure. After an eternity, he pronounced himself satisfied, and she withdrew her foot with a sigh.

"Now give me the other one," he said before he could think about it.

"Why?" she asked, her stomach turning in rapid flops at the thought.

"Because I can see at least two places on that foot where you've twisted the laces," he replied quickly, adding with a small smirk, "and while as a married man I am allowed to take my wife off to a private corner for a bit, doing it more than once will guarantee notice and comments.

Tris blushed again, which only made the satisfaction in Briar's chest that much stronger. Still, she allowed him to take her foot and run one hand up to her knee to undo the knotted laces there. His hands were swift and sure, and she briefly considered what else they would be swift and sure at. That, she decided, was a dangerous line of thought. As was how his tunic molded nicely to his shoulders, or how much she liked his hands on her leg, or what it would take to get him to remove the boots when they got home-

Sneaky fingers teased a sensitive spot on the back of her knee, and a squeak escaped before she could stop it. "Briar!"

"Sorry," he said with a grin that was anything but. "I've always wondered, and I thought I probably wouldn't get a better chance to find out without getting slapped."

"I might slap you anyway," she told him sternly, but his cheeky grin as she stood to test his work told her how much weight her threat carried: absolutely none.

"Too tight?" he asked, standing as well and looking down at her hopefully.

"No- just right." The words were spoken wryly, but he beamed when her eyes caught hers, and if she looked away quickly, it was with a smile of her own on her lips.

"There you two are." Daja's drawl was loud in the sudden quiet, and both jumped a bit a part as their sister strolled into view. "People are starting to wonder if you left."

"He was fixing my boot laces," Tris explained quickly as she unnecessarily straightened her skirt. In the middle of the act, she paused and added dryly, "No one is going to believe that, are they?"

"With Briar as smug as a cat in the cream and you still blushing, unlikely," Daja replied lightly. "Although, for what it's worth, I believe you. But maybe you should just say you found a quiet place to rest of your feet and leave it at that?" Or at least, the smith mage added to herself, she thought it highly unlikely Tris would let Briar do anything improper where someone else might stumble upon it. Still not her business, though.

"They might actually believe that," Briar added as he put her hand back in the crook of his arm. "You usually don't dance this much."

"And he likes gardens," Daja added helpfully.

Their sister didn't look amused as she sighed flatly, "They won't believe that either."

"No, but there's fewer jokes they can make about it than an explanation that involves his hands under your skirt," her sister said with a helpful smile. Tris flushed hotly again, but she didn't pull away from Briar's arm either.

"Why did you come find us anyway?", the weather witch asked as much to change the subject as from curiosity.

"Yazmin wants to know if you will be performing the Hangleman with her tonight before she signals the musicians and discovers you're not coming," Daja said as they entered the ballroom together. "And when no one else knew where you were, I was dispatched to find you."

"You could have simply called," Tris told her with a frown.

"I wasn't sure you would hear." The reply was cryptic enough that the shorter sister shot the taller a look, but the smith mage had her gaze fixed on the crowd in front of them.

"Of course he is going to dance," she said firmly, going back to the first question for a lack of anything better to say. To Briar, she added, "You can't disappoint Yazmin."

"You don't mind?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Do I have a reason to?" she responded, raising her brows slightly.

"No," he said with a growing grin as he looked down at her. "You don't."

"Then go dance and make her smile," she said, looking away quickly as her face began to heat once more. "You're good at that," she said more to herself than him but his smile stretched all the more.

The tradition had started as more of a dare, one of Yazmin's students declaring no one could match her step for step through the Hangleman. Briar considered himself a rather proficient dancer at that time and offered to try. He had also been trying to impress a girl. Yazmin, at first, declined, and perhaps, he should have listened, but stubborn pride drove him forward until she had accepted. The experience had been...humbling.

The plant mage, though, was nothing if not persistent and had begun to practice. It was a dance of the common folk, and he found some reckoned to be good in the city and asked them to help. The next week when he made the challenge again he still failed but had obviously improved. Yazmin had laughed in delight. It had taken almost a year, but when he finally managed it, the ballroom had erupted into cheers. He'd been a hero among the young men and enjoyed a reputation among the lovely ladies that had come with lots of welcome attention. He hadn't beaten her of course, but he had matched her step for step until the end. That was all that mattered.

Even after his triumph, though, he could only keep up once out of every three or four attempts at best. And no matter how he practiced, he did not have her grace or natural talent. Still, it was a fun game that everyone enjoyed and did no harm. Sometimes, others would join in, but most often it was just the pair providing entertainment for themselves and others.

The dancer looked delighted when he appeared, nodding to the servant next to her as he departed for the orchestra.

"I thought she might not let you escape," she teased as the servant had a word with the conductor.

"Actually, I didn't want to leave her, and _she_ insisted," he replied lightly. "Something about being good at making women smile."

Yazmin's eyes danced with mirth, but she said, "She's a dear, and I will have to tell her so."

As the first few notes began, most of the dancers cleared away to give the pair plenty of room. The Hangleman was a pattern dance, the same twelve moves repeated in sequence and each time through the music moved a bit faster. Despite its humble beginning, Yazmin had elevated the rural dance it to something more.

Tris found herself on the edge of the crowd, her parents standing one side and Daja to the other. She spied a slight figure beside her sister but had no time to ask as her mother took her arm and hissed, "What is going on?" Her explanation was quickly given, and at the end of it, Darra gave her daughter a look of puzzlement. "And you're _letting him dance with her_?!"

"Why wouldn't I?" Tris replied softly. "He loves to do it, and I'm certainly not going to make the attempt. And while the Duke does dance well, he isn't up for it either. It makes them happy and harms no one."

"But she's _the Yazmin_." Her mother's words held overtones of both fear and shock, and the weather witch had to strangle her impulse to take a step back.

"Yes," she said calmly as she laid a hand on her mother's arm carefully. "And at the end of the night regardless of how the dance goes, she is going to bed with the Duke, and he is coming home with me."

Darra's mouth worked silently for a moment before she turned to watch with a snorted, "You have a great deal of faith in your young man."

Tris turned to watch as well and said simply, "He's never given me a reason not to." That for some reason seemed to strike a chord in her mother, and the woman crossed her arms tightly across her chest as she tried not to scowl. Her daughter dismissed it as not her business, and not nearly as interesting as watching her (undeniably handsome) husband dance.

Briar had gotten very good at the first few rounds of the dance and could almost emulate every extra swirl and flick Yazmin liked to add to her own. The tempo was finally moving from that of a dirge to something closer to a waltz, and he smiled as the increase in speed made Yazmin's own lips turn upwards. He watched her legs to help him keep the beat and, on a turn, briefly caught a glimpse of Tris watching with a small, proud smile on her face.

The daydream started as just a thought. Would Tris agree to do the Hangleman? Or to try, at least? Not at the ball, of course, too many other people were watching. At the house, then.

Yazmin's legs began to flash a little faster, and Briar picked up the pace as the musicians followed suit. Legs. Tris danced in the rain, in the short dress that didn't quite cover hers.

Briar almost missed a step and willed himself to focus, turning again as they reached the end of another round. The music sped up again, and his heart began to race in time to the beat.

Of course, when Tris did dance in the rain, she didn't wear a corset. The Hangleman involved a lot of jumping...

When the plant mage's feet tangled on themselves, he almost hit the floor. Yazmin laughed as she whirled through the sequence two more times, and Briar led the applause as the musicians ended on a running flourish.

"Oh, Briar, too distracted to dance properly tonight?" Yazmin teased as she patted him on the back consolingly. "You haven't stumbled that early in ages!"

"I confess, my mind is on other things tonight," he admitted ruefully. "Now I must..." He stopped when he realized Tris was not where she had been a moment before and turned to see the Duke leading her onto the dance floor.

"Now you must sit and watch as she did," Yazmin replied with a laugh that held no malice. "Oh, he is wiley, my Verdis."

Briar was not pouting. Or so he told himself.

Yazmin raised a brow at that and, for a moment, silently considered what had come before their dance. She decided a visit to a certain No. 6 on Cheeseman street would be in order... and soon.

Sandry, on the opposite end of the dance floor, had come to the same conclusion but with very different feelings on the matter. It was clear Briar was getting too attached, and while he had engaged himself in many kinds of relationship over the years, Tris had not. She would have to have to a word with him about backing off, or he might accidentally draw Tris into something that couldn't be as easily untangled as his usual pursuits.

Valden also watched the boy. Yes, he decided quietly to himself, Briar and he did have jealousy in common. It did not appear to be to an unhealthy extent, and a little jealousy was not a bad thing. It often helped prod one to try and do better next time. It was why Valden had hired a private dance tutor as a young man. He would never be as graceful as his wife, but she had shown her appreciation many times over their many years of marriage. He decided long ago that it was worth it in the end.

But was he convinced? Briar and Tris had disappeared for a time, and he had been appropriately smug when he had returned. The older man wished, now, that he had listened to his earlier instincts and followed, even if it would have meant ending a dance with his wife early. Still, he had a feeling that if he could see them together, alone, just once. He would know, then. One way or another, he would be able to tell. More observation, he decided, was needed.

The Duke smiled down at Tris, who danced more comfortably than he had ever seen before before.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked kindly as he kept time with the music.

"I am, actually, Your Grace," she replied in kind. "Apparently, all you need to enjoy dancing is the right partner."

"That does make a difference," he agreed with a fond glance in Yazmin's direction. "I hope you don't mind that I stole you from your husband. It is a Duke's right to tweak young men's noses every now and then, and Briar was getting rather full of himself."

"I doubt he would be jealous of you, Your Grace," she said in an offhand way, and Verdis turned his gaze to where Briar wore what an uncharitable person might call a pout. It qualified, at the very least, as an unhappy scowl.

"Hm," was all he replied, keeping his thoughts on that score to himself. "I spoke at length with your father not long ago. He seemed a reasonable man and one with a well-meaning heart."

"We have found him to be the same," Tris replied more quietly, her smile becoming wan. "It's not easy to change your perception of someone when you discover that what you've been assuming for years has been wrong."

"No, but trying is usually a good indicator of a willing heart," the Duke said kindly, and Tris nodded. Sensing that it was best not to pursue that topic further, he decided to go with,"Briar has been very attentive this evening."

The weather witch's smile was small but suddenly held an edge of self-satisfaction that had not been there before. "It helps that I agreed to dance almost the whole night," she said lightly as though it were of no great import.

"Did he ask you to?" the gentleman asked curiously, catching sight of the young man once more. The scowl had been replaced by a slight frown, but he was clearly keeping them in his sights. Verdis was not a betting man, but he would have laid money on Briar being at his wife's side the moment the music ended, if there had been someone to take it.

"No, it was a suggestion of my mother's," Tris admitted as her smile turned wry. "It seemed prudent to listen, given the circumstances."

"And now you've realized dancing with the right partner makes all the difference." He shrugged eloquently and added, "Perhaps some good will come of this after all."

"Perhaps." Neither said anything more as the orchestra wended its way through the final outro and ended with a single, soaring note on a horn.

Briar was suddenly beside them, asking very politely, "Excuse me, Your Grace, but may I have my wife back?"

"Of course, and I thank you for allowing me to take a turn about the floor with her," Verdis replied with equal politeness. "Tris, it was a pleasure." He bowed over her hand before letting go, and Tris curtsied as Briar bowed for good measure. Quickly he took her in his arms for the next dance, and the weather witch was surprised to find he was holding her closer than before.

"Did you enjoy your dance with the Duke?" he asked, trying to keep his voice level as he fought down another surge of jealousy.

"I did," she replied with a slight smile. "He's a very kind man."

"And not the wrong dance partner?" The question was asked lightly, but she didn't miss the way his jaw tightened as he asked or the way he refused to meet her eyes.

"Briar," she said in a puzzled voice, "he's nearly three times my age, and he has Yazmin on his arm. Even if I wanted his attention that way, I wouldn't be able to get it."

The young man shrugged, then asked, "Do you want it?"

"Briar...!" He had the grace to look a little ashamed as she caught his eye with a frown.

"Some women like older men," he defended himself gruffly, his body relaxing nonetheless as she scoffed at the idea. "Besides," he added in a lowered voice, "I would pick you over Yazmin."

"Now _that's_ not true," she told him, disbelief stamped in every word.

"Is so," he insisted indignantly.

Tris rolled her eyes. "I don't believe you."

"She's tiny," Briar said immediately. "And her voice squeaks."

His wife's dark glance showed how little weight his argument carried. "She's hardly shorter than I am, and her voice only squeaks when she raises it."

"Yes," he agreed on both counts quickly, "but she's also...little."

"You mean _thin_." The word came out with a veneer of disgust.

"I mean if you didn't know dancers were stronger than they look you'd think you could bend her in half like a stick. With one hand." The plant mage shrugged, going on seriously with, "I prefer girls I'm not afraid I'm going to break."

"Well, I suppose that's not a problem with me," his wife said tartly, and the young man held in a sigh. Her weight was always a sensitive topic.

"There are some benefits to that," he said before his mind could consider the words coming out of his mouth.

"Like?" she asked, clearly unconvinced.

"You aren't boney," Briar said, words still leaving his mouth without passing through his brain. "And...other things." As if his mind had suddenly caught up with itself, the mage's mouth snapped shut as his face slowly began to turn first pink and then red.

"Other things?" Tris couldn't help herself; she didn't really expect an answer but watching his flush continue to grow as he refused to look her in the face was rewarding enough that she didn't mind.

So, they were both surprised when he continued. "Petite is a word that could be used to describe many of her...assets," he said, still refusing to meet her gaze. "Not everyone likes...petite assets."

Again, she couldn't help needling him a bit further. "And I don't have petite...assets." Tris had not known Briar could turn that shade of red. She decided she liked it and wondered absently how low it went. At the very least, his neck was now matching his brilliantly colored cheeks...

"No," he agreed carefully, bringing her mind back to the conversation. "Which is my point. Also, I don't like her hair." The last was tagged on in a rush, as though to distract from his earlier comment.

"Why not," she asked, surprised. "It's red."

"It's _fake_ red," he corrected her quickly. "From henna. I think the markings on the skin are pretty, but when women put it in their hair it makes them look...well, I just don't like it. She also wears a lot of the face paint stuff. It looks nice, but I'd just as soon as have a woman who knows she's pretty without it."

"And this is why I don't know if I should believe you are not," she told him in a tone that he knew meant she was being honest. "You say that, but I've seen you dance with women who have henna in their hair or wear face paint." Tris paused, then added, "I've seen women with 'petite assets' sneak out of your room at the house. Obviously, you don't dislike them that much."

Both looked away as they continued to dance, and Briar once more felt the familiar stab of a bed he had made himself and not enjoying lying in it in the least. Not that it mattered for himself, he told himself grumpily. But Tris deserved someone who could make her believe she was as wonderful as she truly was.

"You're right," he agreed quietly after a little while, adding only, "But I didn't marry one of them." It wasn't a good defense, he knew. Nor a fair one. But he couldn't quite bring himself to withhold the parting shot.

Tris had no response for that, and they danced on in a silence that stretched comfortably between them despite the topic of moments before. She didn't know if she believed him, but it was a nice thought. The man who could convince her he prefered her to Yazmin, she decided, would be one worth keeping around for a very long time.

Sandry stood at the edge of the dance floor and watched them, certainty growing like a cold spike in her chest. Yes, it was definitely time to intervene.

-090-

The ride home was quiet, until Tris realized Daja was almost scowling out the window into the night.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, and the Trader looked up from her dark musings with a start.

"Oh, no," her sister sighed as she looked out the window once more. "Not really, it just wasn't the evening I thought it would be."

"What happened?" Briar asked, rousing himself from the light doze he had been flirting with beside his wife.

"It was just my evening didn't go entirely as planned," Daja said flatly as she looked back at them again.

"I thought she said yes," Tris said, genuinely upset on her sister's behalf.

"She did," the Trader replied with a faint smile, "And we had a wonderful time dancing. But after the Hangleman Exhibition, Sandry found herself with a new suitor, and I had to go in to rescue her. He was annoyingly persistent, and I spent the rest of the evening guarding her back. My friend understood, I think, but after awhile, she left us to go do a small performance in the gardens with the rest of Yazmin's students, and I didn't see her again after that."

"Why didn't you tell us?" the weather witch asked, scowling slightly. "We could have stepped in for a while; it wouldn't have hurt us to miss a few rounds. Right Briar?"

The plant mage hesitated before answering, "Oh, uh, yes, we could have helped." His wife didn't seem to notice his reluctance, but his sister did. The smith just gave him a look with raised brows, and he had the grace to flush guiltily.

For Tris' benefit, though, she said, "Briar and you were busy convincing your parents, and anyone actually besotted with their wife wouldn't be eager to run off and play protector on their foster sister. She did ask me after our first dance to come visit her this week, and I plan to. I'm just annoyed I didn't spend most of the time with her like I'd planned."

"I suppose that's true," the weather witch conceded with a scowl. "It's still not fair, though. Sandry really couldn't handle it herself? She's usually very good at sending the annoying one's off quickly."

"He was thick as a brick and completely oblivious of her scorn," Daja replied in disgust. "We might have to do something about him, too. His father is leaving him in town to learn about the family holdings here with the steward for a year. He'll be at every ball, I wager, and just as dogged as before."

"Then we will, and we'll do it together," Tris said darkly. "One ball playing a besotted couple is enough for our purposes, next time we will help."

Again, Briar couldn't quite hide his reluctance, but he added his consent more readily this time. After all, Tris was right about one thing. They would do something about this young man, if need be, and they would do it together.

At the house, they disembarked wearily, a maid greeting them at the door to inform them that there were sandwiches and tea in the dining room if anyone wished to eat. Briar's stomach answered for him, loudly, and his wife stifled a chuckle and a yawn at the same time. She declared her intention of going right to sleep, and Daja did the same. The plant mage paused for a moment, as though debating something, but his stomach insisted and he went to the dining room first to fill his empty belly.

Still, Briar ate quickly and took the stairs two a time after dismissing the maid for the night. He found his wife already changed and asleep and found himself disappointed for some reason. Next time, he told himself, though he wasn't sure what he was referring. Or perhaps it would be more honest to say there was an idea burrowed in the back of his mind that he was studiously ignoring for his own reasons. Something about boots. So he changed, snuffed out the single candle, climbed in the bed to lay beside his wife, and went to sleep.

-090-

Author's Notes:

And that's it for this week. I don't think there's really anything to add, except thank you to those of you who reviewed. We'll see you next Friday :)

~CB~


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Everyone woke late the next day. The cook had left trays outside each bedroom in anticipation of this, each covered by a special lid Daja had made some time before. It would still be warm and fresh when opened, even several hours later. Tris was the first to rise, and she dressed quietly before taking the proffered tray to the balcony to enjoy her food in silence. Briar, by her experience, wouldn't wake for another hour or two, and she, at least, could no longer remain abed.

Despite the late start, she did have plans for the day that included actual work. A book had arrived the day of the ball that she had ordered weeks ago, and she hoped to find in it the answer to part of her glass problem. Keth and Thomas' solution helped, but it wasn't a complete success, which she had quickly discovered with her initial testing of the idea. The long awaited tome was opened over breakfast, and she began to take notes.

Eventually, the weather witch moved from the balcony to her work room, the sun having shifted overhead and stolen her shade away. The heat of the summer was setting in, and she happily retreated to her room with a breeze she put in place to keep it from growing too warm. When she came across an alternate way to inscribe charms on glass, the idea struck another she had been teasing in the back of her mind for awhile. The shields over the room went up as she began to pull out what she would need to test the idea.

Because the wards were up, the knock that came a few hours later was muffled. Tris didn't bother to look up; her stomach was telling her it was probably a maid with some tea and food. Absently, she called, "Leave it in the library; I'll be out soon," before going back to her work. Again, what she discovered was only a partial success, but she had made more progress in the last week than the previous two moons combined. She just had to be patient and keep moving forward.

Thankfully, it didn't take long to finish, and she lowered the wards, looking forward to a still-warm cup of tea. Leaving her workroom, she entered the library to find Yazmin folded up in one of the chairs nibbling on a cookie.

"Are these the cookies Briar always raves about?" she asked as she held the dessert up in wonder. "I confess, I thought him crazy. They are not even chocolate! But they are frighteningly tasty..."

"Yazmin?" Tris said in disbelief, finally finding her voice. "I'm...I'm so sorry, I didn't realize-"

"You were working," the dancer replied lightly as she rose long enough to pull Tris into the second seat and close the door behind her. Folding herself back into the chair, she added, "And I didn't tell you I was coming. Shame on me, not you."

"And to what do I owe the honor of this visit?" the weather witch asked as she settled herself in the seat, trying to not be envious of the way the dancer gracefully tucked her legs beneath herself.

"Several things, actually," her visitor admitted with a bright smile. "First off, I have a package and a proposition from Dame Dominique. Do you know who that is?" Tris' nod was quick and guarded. "This package is the gift from your mother, from her shop." The retired dancer pointed to the plainly wrapped package tucked beside her seat, and her companion was surprised. She hadn't expected it to be so...innocent looking. Further contemplation was cut short as the small woman went on. "The proposition has to do with those rods you made for Sandry some years ago."

Tris had to think about that before she understood what Yazmin meant. "The ones to help her stay 'neutral'?" she asked, uncertain what else it could be.

"Yes, if you mean the ones that help her deal with clingy fabrics," the Duke's lover said as she waved one hand dismissively. "I do not understand how they work or what they do, nor do I wish to. It is enough that they work. The kinds of fabrics that Dame Dominique works with tend to have the same problems. She would like to speak with you to discuss a similar product for her clients, made exclusively by you. She asked me to invite you to visit her whenever it is convenient for you. I believe you should at least go and hear her out, but it is, of course, up to you."

The weather witch's brows had begun to rise with the mention of an exclusive contract. "I will, at least, consider going to speak with her," she agreed, making a mental note to speak to Daja. While she laid the charm, it was her sister who blended and cast the metals required for it to work.

Satisfaction shone in the dancer's eyes, and Tris wondered if a commission had been promised if the contract was completed. "Good. Second, my thanks for letting Briar dance with me. He said you told him to go." Yazmin's smile had turned teasing, and her companion felt her cheeks heat slightly.

"Why wouldn't I have let him? I'm not some jealous fishwife," the weather witch said without rancor. Her lips turned upwards as she added, "Well, I am jealous of your figure, but that's different."

"Pfft, my figure is because I dance constantly," Yazmin said with a wide grin. "You don't dance constantly, but you fly. I am jealous of that... and your magnificent bosom." The redhead didn't know how to react as her visitor openly eyed her chest with unabashed admiration. In what felt like a heartbeat, her face had gone from pink to a brilliant scarlet, and her companion noticed with a surprised laugh. "Oh, I am sorry, Tris. I did not mean to make you uncomfortable, but they are _magnificent-"_ Yazmin cut herself off when the mage felt the flush flood down her neck. "And now I am doing it again. Forgive me, I forget sometimes that being a dancer takes away such feelings of embarrassment."

Tris didn't know what to say to that. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and answered simply, "It's not really flying." Her companion took the hint and dropped previous subject with ease.

"But we are both still jealous," the dancer said with a teasing lament. "Which brings me to the third reason I'm here, actually. Have you noticed how jealous Briar is behaving lately? Particularly with Keth?"

In truth, Tris had. The glass mage had not repeated his request for a dance after the first attempt the evening before and had gone on to dance with several unattached young ladies whose mothers had eyed him speculatively for the rest of the evening. Still, she could have sworn Briar had kept tabs on her student for the rest of the night and conveniently avoided ending any dance on the same side of the room. She had decided not to mention it at the time, for her own reasons, but that brought to mind Briar's unusual behavior towards the Duke. Uncertain how Yazmin would react to anything involving her beloved, Tris settled with the simplest answer that came to mind.

"I had," she admitted carefully. "I thought it might be an act, for the sake of my parents, so I've ignored it for the most part. Why?"

"Well, I have a theory to propose." Yazmin adopted a pose and tone that mimicked that of the Duke, and her host couldn't help but grin. It was how Vedris always spoke when attempting to teach Sandry some fine detail about ruling. Learning to think sideways, Briar called it, and Tris couldn't disagree.

"I'm listening," she said with a chuckle.

"He's falling in love." The young wife went completely still, and the flush that hadn't faded yet suddenly drained away to pure white with alarming speed. She blinked, once, and then took in a deep breath that she released with excruciating deliberateness.

"Oh." It was all Tris could think to say.

Yazmin wasn't sure what reaction she had expected, but it hadn't been that. Gently, she reached over and laid a hand on Tris' arm before saying, "I mean with you."

That certainly got a reaction as well. The weather witch snatched her arm away as though she had been burned, giving the dancer a shocked look as she sputtered, "What? But...but he can't!"

"Why can't he?" her visitor asked, deciding this was going to be a good deal more enjoyable than she had originally assumed.

"I'm his sister," Tris replied as though it should be obvious.

"You are no more his sister than I am," the retired dancer said flippantly, rolling her eyes as she added, "Otherwise, he could not have married you as he did. You are magically bonded together, yes, but that does not make you blood relatives."

The logic was infallible, but Tris persisted with, "But we were raised together!"

"Which is how many noble alliances begin," Yazmin rejoined with a knowing grin, "they foster out their children for that very reason all the time. And you see it often when apprentices marry their Master's daughters." Her smile grew suddenly with amusement. "Or sons."

The weather witch suspected there was a story behind that grin but refused to be distracted from the current discussion. "How do you know?" she asked, certain she was unable to be convinced but strangely curious about the dancer's grounds for such a conclusion. Not because she had any interest in proof, of course, but to discover—for purely intellectual reasons—what had brought this absurd notion to light. It had nothing to do with the seed of hope that did not exist within her at all. Obviously.

The smaller woman shrugged and held up a single finger as she began her reasoning. "Item one: jealousy. He not only does not want other men, especially Master Warder, touching you. He doesn't even like it when some of them are round. He immediately put a hand on you whenever anyone else approached the night of the ball and did not let go unless forced to. That, more than anything, screams 'Mine!' from a man. You should have seen his face when Vedris stole you out from under his nose; he was practically pouting."

Tris had not known about the pout, but the rest of it she knew for truth. She was fairly certain Briar's glare had scared off at least two other men who had been about to ask for a dance. She hadn't known either; they were visitors from out of town for the noble wedding, which is likely the only reason they had thought to ask. Anyone who actually knew who she was obviously wouldn't have asked her to dance. Still, she dismissed it with, "It could have been an act; we've already discussed that. Anything else?"

Yazmin's snort was derisive, but she went on to, "Item two: his attention. He has always had a wandering eye. Even when he had a girl on his arm, he would still observe any others in the room. He's even eyed my bosom a time or two." The dancer laughed as her companion was unable to completely suppress her scowl. "Are you getting jealous now?" she teased wickedly, "You shouldn't; he had eyes only for you at the ball. Even when he was complimenting other women, he was watching you out of the corner of his eye. He especially, I believe, liked your boots." The scowl turned into a scarlet-stained blush of disbelief.

"And third," the dancer said with a knowing look, "is the way he danced with you. Dancing means so much more than many people think, and you can learn so much by watching people as they take a turn or two about the floor together. How they hold themselves, how they hold their partner. Where they look, how much they do or do not speak. Even if your face is controlled, your body can give you away. Briar was practically _wooing_ you towards the end of the night with each step. You may not have realized it; he may not have either. Young men often don't realize how much of their intentions or decisions they give away before they acknowledge it for themselves. But as surely as the sun rises in the east each day, he was quite loudly declaring his preference for anyone with half a mind to pay attention."

Tris wondered if it was possible to die of mortification, her face hot enough to set the room on fire, and Yazmin laughed once more before going quiet and eyeing the young wife speculatively. "I had come to warn you, so you wouldn't break the poor boy's heart," she admitted ruefully. "I thought we would laugh together over your silly brother, and you would set things right with a few careful words. Instead, I think I will advise you to seduce him and keep him for yourself. I think you might love him, too."

"I'm not sure I believe you." And if she was honest, she meant on either count. Her stomach fluttered as she tried to contemplate either possibility and found herself drowning in a flood of undulating emotions she could make neither heads nor tails of.

"Don't you?" The smaller woman gave her companion a challenging look, and Tris was the first to look away still blushing furiously. Yazmin shrugged eloquently, considering the young wife before she suggested, "Then test him. The package I brought you. Leave it out, but mostly wrapped. If he opens it, discovers what it is and immediately puts it away then I am wrong. But if he opens it and explores...they are obviously made for you. Any interest he has in them will not be because of 'brotherly affection'."

"And what if you're wrong?" Tris asked with a hint of desperation. "Or...or the test is...inconclusive."

"Then test him more than once!" Yazmin leapt to her feet with the words, pacing quickly through the small space as she tossed out ideas. "Mmm, tell him you are going to visit Keth. Make it at an inconvenient time and see if he does not drop everything to go with you. Mention in passing something you forgot to purchase and see if he does not pop out suddenly to get it for you, even something you do not need but simply want. A favorite treat to eat or a small something you would like. Ask him to button up a dress for you or, better yet, unbutton one. Or help you with your boots. See if he doesn't linger over the task a little longer than necessary. And finally, if you aren't quite convinced, initiate some affection of your own. You seemed to respond to him at the ball, but you kept a certain distance as well. I will also admit to not being able to read you as well as Briar, he has always worn his heart on his sleeve. It is why I was unsure of where you heart lay. Be the initiator, the...instigator and see how quickly he responds." The dancer plopped back into her seat, a triumphant air about her as she waited to see her companion's reaction. "I think you will be pleasantly surprised at what you find."

"What if I'm not sure I want him to respond?" The words came out in a much smaller voice than either expected, and the dancer had the grace to hide her surprise as Tris cleared her throat and tried again. "I mean," she said in a stronger voice, "I don't...I don't know that I feel that way about him."

The dancer seemed to understand, and she replied gently, "Tris, every love is a risk. Even with a brother or a friend. Whichever you choose, you will find no better a man than Briar to risk your heart on; I can promise you that."

The weather witch had no response for that.

"I'll show myself out," the smaller woman said after a time. "I think I have given you enough to think on. If you wish to talk more, I am always available to a friend. And let me know if you wish me to introduce you to Dame Dominique, it would be my pleasure." Her smile was genuine as she got up to leave, and her host only nodded as she did.

Tris sat for a long time after Yazmin left, staring at the tepid tea in her cup as she tried to sort through everything the retired dancer had said. Briar falling in love with her? That was ridiculous. Impossible. And even if he was, did she want that? Did she want him permanently in her life and in her bed as no one had ever been before? The logical part of her mind pointed out that doing so would change things irrevocably. The other...was lost in a daydream involving leather boots. And besides, things had already changed; hadn't they? He had said more than once that he liked being married to her. Other than one 'hang up' that didn't have to be a hang-up...the blush that had finally faded came back with a vengeance. No. No no no no. Briar and her couldn't. It wasn't possible, and Yazmin was losing her mind.

 _Test him._

The words echoed in the back of her mind, as though the dancer had murmured them in her ear.

A test. Tests were good things: they helped you learn and grow and showed you things you hadn't realized or thought about before. And if the answer wasn't quite what you needed or expected, it sometimes revealed pieces of the whole that helped you find the truth.

 _Like whether or not Briar..._ loves _me._ The thought filled her stomach with butterflies and made her heart thrum erratically in her chest. No, she told herself firmly as she fell into her meditative breathing pattern to calm herself down. No, you will not rush in like a half-mad bull into a glass shop. Either way, it could end in disaster. Logic was better: logic was impartial and would give her a truer result.

And in doing her tests, she could test herself as well. She had...feelings about Briar. Strong ones. Feelings she didn't want to look at too closely because she suspected she would be anything but logical if she did. But you could test for more than one thing at a time, and she could examine herself as she examined him for the answer to the need that had become lodged in her chest.

A test, then. The package. It was sitting innocently on the floor where Yazmin had left it. She picked it up before she could think about it too much and carried it into the bedroom. There she cracked the wax seal holding the string closed (he would never go that far) and peeked inside the plain paper wrappings.

The corset on top was exquisite. A deep blue satin lined each panel, which in turn was edged in black lace. There were underthings that matched below it, and fine black hose that laced into the straps provided to keep them up and tight. The entire ensemble was luxurious and felt ruinously expensive and...was made exactly like the ones Sandry had created for her. Further examination proved that it was as practical and easy to use.

For a moment, Tris considered trying it on. She would need to at some point, to tell her mother that it had been 'used', and there was no time like the present...the thought was shoved aside by her practical self. Regretfully, weather witch moved on to the next.

It took a moment for her eyes to actually see the garment. Could you call something that was essentially see-through a 'garment'? Garment meant clothes, and clothes were worn to cover the body. This wouldn't even obscure anything.

It was in the shape of a nightgown, though had no sleeves (she didn't know why that surprised her when it was also missing actual _fabric_ ). The material was so diaphanous she was also afraid to touch it. There were underthings too, though Tris was sure the scraps of fabric no more deserved the name than the nightgown did.

For a moment, she tried to see the appeal. Suppose, then, that it was dark. The material had a slight shine to it, diffused light (like moonlight) would probably catch on it gently. It would be cold, she mused pensively as she studied it, and that would have its own side-effects-

Ah.

Her face was on fire as she set the item aside and looked at the third costume.

This was another corset, a deep emerald green satin this time with dark grey accents. Dark grey that perfectly matched a certain pair of leather boots. There was also a skirt. Calling it a skirt was rather like before, that was the closest piece the garment resembled but still didn't quite fit what the term implied. The item in question attached itself to the corset along its bottom edge with tiny hooks and, when in place, made a cascade of green and grey ruffles that would fall to just above her knees in the back and not even cover her thighs in the front. It was complex and completely impractical, and Tris still wanted to try it on for some reason.

The part of her mind she generally considered to be the most sensible and logical pointed out that putting on an outfit and simply waiting for Briar to come upstairs would be a pretty conclusive test by itself.

Yes, she agreed carefully because it was a sensible and logical thought. But would I be happy with either result? If he isn't...attracted to me, do I want to see his disgust? And if he is...do I want that either? Or even if I do want it, am I ready for it? The thought made her shiver with something akin to fear, something she couldn't sort out with everything else going on.

Focus on the test at hand, she told herself as she began to carefully stack the items back in their paper wrappings. Not perfectly in order, but grouped together correctly and laid neatly flat. Carefully, she brought the paper back over the colorful bundle, wrapping the string about it but not tying it closed. That was when she noticed the three scraps of fabric by the wax seal. One blue, one green, and one moon-mist silver, they matched the gifts perfectly.

Tokens, she realized. She had heard of this but never seen it for herself. Then she remembered something else she'd heard.

Snatching off her glasses, she wrote a few signs over both eyes and opened them again slowly. Nothing blazed in her sight beyond what she had expected in her room. The shakkan she put to her back to block out of her line of sight, and she was able to ignore the few other items strongly spelled among their possessions. Carefully, she increased the strength, studying the different layers of the package as she searched for even a hint of magic.

There was one there, a light layer of spells that she recognized as being similar to the ones Sandry employed. They were not quite as potent as the stitch-witch's, but that wasn't surprising. They wouldn't make stains simply wipe off the cloth, but they would make the cloth resist fading over time and the washing and removing of stains easier. And that was it, nothing more.

She was relieved to find it so. While she could logically see the appeal of 'love charms', it would not have resolved her question. After all, make the charms strong enough and even a person largely disinterested in sex would have a hard time resisting the wearer. It was one of those areas of magic that made her uncomfortable because it made it hard to draw the line on what was right and what was wrong.

Still, these were clean of any such workings, and that was what was important for now. She would leave them here, at the foot of the bed, and see what happened next.

The test had begun.

-090-

When Briar came upstairs, he meant for it to be a quick trip to grab his favorite shakkan and go back down again. The miniature tree had gotten amazingly good at helping calm nervous trees while the plant mage shaped them, like a grandfather calming a nervous child. He was stopped, however, by the package.

It looked innocent, plain brown paper wrappings and sturdy twine holding it all in place. The wax seal he recognized even broken in half. Briar was sure most men in the city would, if even half the stories were true. He knew more than one fellow who had received the broken seal with a scrap of fabric who had abandoned everything to head home. Or to whomever had sent it.

He found the fabric scraps as soon as he shifted the first flap of paper, and was surprised to find three. _Three_. And they would be custom made to Tris. He was momentarily distracted by the memory of a certain meal where he had been told to leave for a time. This wasn't Sandry's work, though, he could tell as soon as he touched the fabric. The first was a dark blue with a touch of black lace attached to one corner. The second was...transparent was the best word he could find at the moment as his throat went dry. The third was green, dark green, with a touch of something grey sewn along one edge.

No one had mentioned this to him, he thought as he noticed how the satin felt against his fingertips. Briar thought it unlikely that Tris had gone to purchase these herself, and if her mother had drug her along to one of those kinds of shops, he had a feeling he would have heard about it afterwards. Unless, of course...his conversation with Valden regarding Tris and clothes. The man must have said something to his wife, who had done something about it after consulting with Sandry.

And now you can thank them properly, he added to himself and he turned to put the scraps back. Dark blue, transparent, and green with grey. Got it.

His hand stopped just above the brown paper package. But, his mind reasoned, wouldn't details be more convincing? After all, a man wouldn't remember just what colors they were. What if Valden asked a question, and Briar answered wrong? He could, of course, refuse to answer, but that might be even worse. If he looked now, he also wouldn't have to ask Tris to describe them to him later. Which would be very embarrassing for her, and so looking at them himself was really doing her a favor. It just made sense.

So, he opened the package.

An hour later, he was still unable to leave the room. He should have expected it; Dame Dominique was known for keeping a couple of decent mages in house. Clearly, these presents were littered with the best 'love' magic money could buy and had nothing to do with the fact that they were made for Tris. They were also beautiful and perfectly suited to his wife and probably quite expensive.

He briefly wondered what using one of these items with those charms in effect would be like. For a moment an image of Tris, wearing one of the corsets, was branded across his vision. He had thought the 'effect' couldn't get any worse. He was wrong.

That is, of course, when he felt the shield over Tris' workroom come down. Quickly, the green mage stacked everything back together as carefully as he could and covered it with the original brown paper and twine. His shakkan he grabbed, then lowered his hold so the pot covered what he couldn't hide. Held thus, he marched into the hall and almost ran straight into his wife.

"Briar?" she asked, surprised to see him upstairs so early. Then she noticed the shakkan and smiled a bit. "Wiring some new trees?"

"He likes to help," Briar replied with a guilty grin. "You have a package-" He nearly clicked his teeth he shut his mouth so fast; he hadn't even meant to mention the package unless she brought it up first.

"A present from my parents," the young woman replied as she glanced at the sheaf of papers she carried in one hand.

"I thought so." Well, he decided, if he had already started he might as well finish. "I took a peek, so I could tell your father. Just a small one, you know, to be convincing." He had to force himself to shut his mouth before it could run away again. It had sounded like nervous babbling even to him, but it seemed Tris for once was not paying that much attention to their conversation.

"What did you think?" she asked absently, eyes back on her papers as she scribbled something in the margin with the charcoal stick she usually had in her pocket.

"I think they spent more on the charms than they did the fabric." The dry grumble was met with a blank look as she finally met his eyes.

"Charms?" she asked, confused.

"The...the charms worked into the fabric. Like Sandry does." He hoped he would not have to explain further. He could not imagine anything more embarrassing than that.

"There's only one, and it's a minor stain resist charm," she replied quizzically, glancing back at their room as though she would be able to see the gift through the almost closed door. "That shouldn't have been that expensive. I checked myself, I didn't want any...unexpected surprises."

Briar knew from the burn of his ears that his face had gone red. No charms. No charms on the fabric. Which meant-...he slammed the door on that line of reasoning and realized his wife was watching him with a small half-smile of amusement. "O-oh. Right. I have to go, work waiting for me," he stammered, turning part way through and hurrying down the stairs.

"Do you think I should keep this gift too?" she asked quickly.

"Yes." Almost on the heels of his reply he added, "If you want to, I mean. It's up to you. I-I have to go." He picked up speed, which Tris would have thought wasn't possible with the way he was holding the shakkan. There was something odd about that...

Far more calmly than she felt, Tris entered her bedroom. She was grateful she had been carrying her notes, the distraction was the only reason she'd been able to keep her own blush at bay. It made studying his reaction difficult, but she didn't want him to get the wrong idea by appearing too interested in his response. Whatever that might be.

It was clear after a moment of looking that 'peeking' was a gross understatement of what Briar had done. The entire package had been taken apart, its pieces disassembled and reassembled in an entirely different combination than before. And given the way the coverlet on the bed had been rumpled, she bet they had all been laid out at one point before someone had packaged them up again quickly. Absently, she fixed that, her mind more focused on considering the test result.

Inconclusive, she decided as she carefully folded each item and and placed it in the drawer she rarely used.

Briar had liked the garments and gone through them, but he had also slept with a lot of women. It was possible one of them, or more than one of them, had been similar in some aspect to her. That could have been who he had thought of. The idea made her stomach clench unpleasantly, but she attempted to be objective as she continued. And even if he had been thinking of her, she added with an unexpected surge of pleasure that she roughly shoved away, love and lust were not the same thing. It might just be a side effect of sleeping in her bed and not seeing anyone else. They weren't blood siblings, as Yazmin had pointed out, and she could hardly get upset if this was normal behaviour for a young man.

All of which left her with only proof that Briar was a young man who liked women in pretty underthings.

 _Test him_ , Yazmin's voice said again, and she recalled the rest of the conversation. Very well, she decided as she finished straightening the room. If the first test proves inconclusive, you move on to a second. And, if need be, a third or a fourth. Or as many as it took to be sure. Because it was something she needed to know, for herself as much as for him.

-090-

Briar had a handful of clients he considered regulars. Some he saw regularly because that's what they paid him to do. One or two he visited to learn from their ancient gardeners who occasionally knew things even Rosethorn didn't. And there was one fat commission in particular that he saw on a regular basis to glance over the miniature forest he had planted in an atrium for the pompous owner. They were looked after, in his absence, by a very competent servant he was on excellent terms with who knew how to handle such finicky trees. The servant was, in fact, the only reason Briar had agreed to creating the display in the first place. There was no point putting in hours upon hours of work for the entire project to be allowed to wither and die.

But of all of them, Lord Thurston was probably his favorite. The aging giant of a man was in his sixtieth year, unmarried, with a nephew groomed to take the title after his death. He had been a captain in the navy for decades until retiring a few years before and was as blunt as most military men.

Briar discovered that himself when the old man sat himself on a neighboring bench after a turn around the dance floor with a pretty woman the plant mage had recognized. The woman had told Briar once that he was charming, but she prefered her men as she prefered her wine: well aged. She now bent and kissed one lined cheek, and the old lord had smiled at the flash of bosom that came with.

"There goes a very pretty girl who is far too young for me," the former Captain had said as he watched her prance off with regret.

"She likes older men," Briar replied with a small grin. "And would probably disagree with you on that score."

"Ah, but alas I will only disappoint. The spirit is willing, but the flesh is _weak_." The last word was grumbled with disgust, and Briar felt a pang of sympathy for the old man. It was a common ailment among older gents. And while there were some...cures, none of them worked well or consistently that he had ever heard. Oh, one fellow would swear by this oil or that potion. Another would tout the amazing qualities of a phallic shaped mushroom or herb, and still others some ridiculous ritual in the dead of a moonless night their father and grandfather and great grandfather had all used. And if it didn't work, it was clearly because you had done something wrong in your attempt to make use of it. That was all there was to it.

Briar listened to what each 'miracle remedy' entailed and stored it away as something to look into later. The one time he'd heard a farmer ask Rosethorn about it, she'd informed the man in no uncertain terms that she was there to tend to the crops and the sick or injured, not to help him 'plough something other than fields'. Briar understood her lack of sympathy at the time, there'd been a blight going on in the fields and a bad cough that wasn't responding to the usual treatments. She'd had her hands full enough of real problems without adding people's unnecessary wants on top of it.

Still, it seemed to him that if there were ways to help sick people get better and ways to help people with problems like Lark with her wheezes then there ought to be a way to help a fella or a lady enjoy their bodies for as long as they cared to use them.

So he and Lord Thurston had a very blunt talk, and at the end of it, he had a willing participant in anything that he found that might actually do the trick. He'd done his research as thoroughly as he could, quietly speaking with several healers in the city and reading several books on the topic. It was slow going, partially because (as most of the healers had emphasized) the reason a man may not be able to 'stand at attention' could be caused by many different things, and most of them were not necessarily easily fixed.

Still, Lord Thurston had been willing to try anything, and Briar now had a mixture that worked about 3 tries out of 5 with reasonable success. It wasn't what he had hoped for, but it was a good sight better than the old man had been able to manage before. Every moon or so Briar stopped in and visited the retired Captain, to see how his latest batch was working for him and a few select friends. It wasn't something Briar felt comfortable selling from the stall, but he was willing to gift a few rich old men with a draft that may or may not help. They, in turn, gifted him with valuable items they no longer needed that he either sold or gifted to others himself. They often enjoyed a very good meal together, where Briar learned from the mistakes of old men and laughed together a great deal. It was a good system, for now.

Today was the day for that visit, and Briar was carefully placing each labeled bottle in his wool-lined leather case when Tris walked in and asked him what he was doing.

"Getting ready to go out and meet a ...client," he replied as he inserted the last wax-sealed tube and began closing the straps carefully. "Why?"

"I was going to see if you wanted to come and have lunch with me," she replied calmly as she watched him work. "Thomas and Keth asked me to meet them today, so I thought you might want to join. But you're already busy, so don't worry about it." He noticed for the first time that she was wearing one of her nicer summer dresses, and that her braids had been straightened and her shoes cleaned.

Briar paused in the act of securing the final clasp, looking up at her speculatively. "Lunch with Keth, hm?"

"And Thomas and Chime," she added as she turned to go. "She really has taken to him. I won't keep you, if you have somewhere to be, though."

"I could just drop them off on the way," he said as he stood slowly, trying to decide whether or not the old lord would mind. Probably not, especially if he mentioned it was to be with his wife. "He can send payment along whenever he decides what he wants." The Captain may be blunt, but he was as straight as a razor. Payment would come, and it would be fair too.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't want you to upset an important client," Tris told him with a small frown.

"I think he'll understand," her husband quickly assured her as he got to his feet and slung the carrying case about his shoulders. "Where's Chime?"

"She's already with them," she replied absently as she adjusted the cuff of one sleeve. "They stopped by early this morning to see if she wanted to tag along."

"You weren't kidding, then," her husband replied with a wide smile. "Careful, or she might decide to leave you for him."

"Maybe," she agreed as he offered his arm and she accepted. Together they left the house, letting the housekeeper know on the way they would be out for the afternoon.

The walk was a long one, but the weather wasn't quite scorching hot today, and Tris kept a light breeze circling around both of them as they went. There were advantages to being married to a weather witch, the young man mused for not the first time. Quietly, they talked about her parents and the garden and even a little about the ball. She admitted she had not minded dancing most of the evening, though her feet had protested in the morning. He confessed he hoped they might do it again, at least once.

"Besides," he added as they walked up to the small mansion that was their destination. "When you're dancing, you're not listening to those pompous windbags rattle on, which makes attending the Mage Council gatherings in the winter almost bearable."

"Who is this client, Briar?" Tris asked, distracted by the beautifully preserved building that was obviously one of the oldest in the city.

"Lord Thurston," he replied, adding, "Lord Thurston en Gergio," when she frowned in puzzlement.

"Lord Gergio?" she said, surprised. "As in the retired Captain the Duke nearly had to force out of the Navy? What does he buy from you?"

"Ah..." Of course, she would ask, he thought to himself as he scrambled for an answer. "I'll tell you later," he finally said as he knocked on the door.

He had been expecting the housekeeper or the butler. Either would do to leave a message for his patron along with the leather carry case. Lord Thurston en Gergio himself answering the door had not figured into his plans.

"Briar!" he said gruffly, a wide smile stretching his weathered face as he backed into the main hall and motioned for them to follow. "Come in, come in. Hunley's out for the week: old fellow twisted his back. Healer says he'll be up soon, but he'll need to take things slower now. True for us all, though, true for us all...I do have news from old Noel-" Spotting Tris for the first time, he paused, "Pardon my manners, I did not realize you were not alone. And your lovely companion would be...?"

"My wife, Lord Thurston," the young man replied quickly, not even bothering to hide the pride in his voice. "Trisana Moss. Tris, please allow me to present Lord Thurston."

"A pleasure, Mistress Moss," the old man said, bowing smartly with a twinkle in his eye. "He mentioned getting married; he did not tell me how pretty you were. And being the greedy fellow he is, I am not surprised in the least."

"Just Tris, please, and you are too kind, Lord Thurston," she replied wryly, unable to resist smiling back as she curtsied in response.

"A last minute engagement came up," Briar went on, unslinging the leather carry case from his shoulder. "So I will not be able to stay today and listen to your news. I hope it is nothing bad...?"

"No, no, Noel was quite happy with the last batch," the Lord replied shortly. "The green ones seems to work better for him. I still like the red ones better, and Charles agrees with me. We can discuss it another time, certainly. Are the instructions with the bottles as before...?"

"They are," the mage confirmed with a smile. "And you can send payment and the case back whenever you like. Do I need to leave the address, or...?"

"No, no, Hunley has it I'm sure," their host said as he accepted the case and set it on a side table. "Out to lunch with your lovely wife, I presume?"

"And some friends," Tris added, feeling her cheeks heat slightly.

"Well, I cannot say I blame you in the least for abandoning me for her," the old Captain said bluntly. "She is much prettier than I. You should bring her along next time. We can manage another seat at our table, and I think the woman who managed to settle a man I thought a consummate bachelor must be fascinating to talk to."

"I don't know about fascinating," the young woman in question said with a suppressed laugh. "But I do have some good stories about the young Briar Moss."

"As I can imagine him getting into just about every scrape possible, I believe that," Lord Thurstone said with a rough bark of a laugh, winking at her roguishly. "Please do come with him next time, Mistress Moss: your presence would be a welcome change from our usual conversation."

"My thanks for the invitation. We will see," was all she would reply. Politely, she and Briar bid their goodbyes, and soon they were back out on the street heading to the other side of the town with her hand on his arm.

"Are you sure you don't like older men?" Briar blurted out as soon as they were down the steps. Catching the surprised look his wife was giving him, he added, "You don't usually accept compliments that well."

His companion snorted before saying, "Briar, he was being a gentleman, and I appreciated that."

"Yes," he protested with an unmistakable grumble, "but _I'm_ a gentleman, and you never let me call you pretty without arguing."

"You're also a flirt. It makes it less sincere." Tris spoke the words dryly and was surprised when her husband didn't laugh or offer a witty retort.

"Hmm," was all he said, but he laid his hand over hers and continued on their walk.

"By the way," Tris said suddenly, as though remembering something she had forgotten, "what is it you make for Lord Thurston and his friends? Not something from the stall, I assume, or his servant could just pick it up for him."

"No, not something from the stall," her husband hedged with an uncomfortable look. "It's...personal."

"He's...alright, isn't he?" Catching sight of the troubled look on the weather witch's face, he hastily assured her that the lord was in the best of health for a man his age.

"It's more...it's just something that improves his life a little," he finished with a shrug. "But I'm not comfortable selling it from the stall for many reasons, including that I'm still working on it. They're helping me test it, and if it works, they give me a gift based on how happy they are with it. It doesn't always, but it's better than nothing I suppose."

Seeing Tris' brows rise suddenly, the plant mage mentally kicked himself as he watched her cheeks turn a faint pink. Of course, she would puzzle it out. Tris never missed anything, if she wasn't buried in a book. He should have just left it at 'a gift, don't worry about it' or some such. Watching her out of the corner of his eye, he waited until she'd finished processing her conclusions to see if she would reply.

Tris, for her part, was torn between disgust and a sense of pride. She knew enough about herself to know most of the disgust was because she had no desire to consider Lord Thurston or his friends in that sort of light. And the pride was because Briar was helping in something he clearly didn't need himself. A certain amount of self-interest might be present: it could be something he might need someday, but that day was likely several years distant.

"Would you ever sell it from the stall?" she asked, mostly out of curiosity.

"Probably not," he admitted with a slight grin. "There's a healer who specialized in medicine of that sort in the city. She doesn't sell anything like this though. If I...if I think it works well enough, I might approach her about selling it through her. She's smart enough to be careful who she dispenses it to and would be better able to handle any unintended consequences. All four who use it now through Lord Thurston do it with full permission of their personal healers. I don't want to risk a client dying because of something I made."

"It would cut into your profits," she pointed out lightly.

"Higher profits aren't always worth the risk," he replied with a shrug. "And it's still an 'if'. I've hit a bit of a wall concerning the formula. The success rate is only a little better than half, and I don't feel right selling something that fails almost as often as it succeeds."

"Is that success rate better than what they were able to...achieve on their own?" Her flush deepened slightly, but her voice remained steady and he nodded.

Briar nodded slowly, saying, "According to them, yes."

"Then maybe you should take it to the healer and let her and her clients decide whether or not it's good enough," she said as they rounded the final corner. "They may surprise you." Briar had to admit: she had a point.

At the glass workshop where they were to meet, Keth stood alone out front, neatly dressed with his hair freshly combed. If Briar had seen him walking on the road, he would have said the man was going to court a pretty girl. The plant mage took an unobtrusive step back as Tris went to greet him.

Keth brightened up as soon as he saw his teacher and smiled broadly as he returned her greeting. "It's just me," he said as she glanced around for her brother. "Thomas decided he wanted to stay and watch a demonstration, and Chime decided to stay with him."

"Then it's a good thing Tris asked me along," Briar said smoothly as he stepped up beside his wife. "Hello, Keth."

"Briar," the glass mage replied less warmly, nodding his head shortly.

"What demonstration?" Tris asked, trying to look inside the open door behind them as she ignored the men.

"Decorative pulling," her student replied dismissively. "You've seen me do it dozens of times."

"That doesn't make it any less interesting," she said as though he should know better. "Do you think they would mind if I watched too? Then, Thomas could still join us to eat."

"I...I suppose..." Reluctantly, the older man inquired inside, and soon, all three of them were in the back of the workspace watching the master glassmaker at his work.

Briar had to admit that, for something that had nothing to do with his craft or usual hobbies, it was still quite interesting. He shied away from getting too close to the heat of the crucible. Even from across the room, it made him feel like his roots were crisping unpleasantly, but watching the man manipulate the molten glass with his tongs and tools with swift, deft motions was an impressive display of skill.

His wife did not shy away from the heat, though, and even handled one of the finished pieces before it had cooled completely. Knowing Tris was immune to high temperatures did not entirely quell the instinct to stop his wife as she reached for the piece. He only started forward, recalling himself in time, before he caused a scene, but he thought she knew all the same for the amused grin she gave him afterwards.

Thomas had been delighted they had joined the party and explained everything to Briar without needing to be asked. And the plant mage let him because no one else seemed interested in doing so and the best way to learn something was to teach it to someone else. He directed his few questions to the boy, who answered quickly and competently. Just like his sister, he mused to himself as the boy went on about viscosity and melting points and cooling rates. A walking book, holding far more knowledge than you'd ever know looking at the outside.

"I hope you weren't too bored," Tris said as they moved to leave, slipping her hand naturally into his elbow once again. "And I'm sorry I didn't ask you if you wanted to stay. I should have."

"I wasn't bored at all," he replied as Thomas distracted his master with questions about different techniques the glassmaker had used in the demonstration. "Thomas explained what was going on, and it's actually really interesting. I might come watch you work sometime, if that's alright."

"I'm not nearly that good," Tris replied with a faint smile. "Mostly, I use the pipe or the molds. If you're interested in seeing a real artist, though, there is a master over one street who does absolutely beautiful work. He's not a mage but still."

"I'd still rather watch you," he said, grinning as she flushed faintly. "Besides, we can talk without me getting too close, so I can ask whatever questions I want."

"Still not a fan of the heat?" she teased, turning to follow her student and brother into the establishment Keth had chosen.

Briar frowned at the eating house: it was nice enough but no one that would justify getting fancied up the way Keth had. He took a quick glance around and spotted a second establishment across the road, this one catering to small groups or pairs who wished to eat in private. It was also much nicer. Hm. "It makes my roots feel crispy," he explained when he realized Tris was still waiting for an answer.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, glancing behind them into the street.

"No," he said quickly. "I'm just glad I came; that's all."

"I'm glad you came too," she replied as she went in the door. "Thomas likes you."

Briar wasn't sure why that simple phrase made him so happy, but it did.

Keth treated them to the eating house's special, a platter of thinly sliced meat wrapped around pieces of cheese, vegetables and different types of bread that were then dipped into the various sauces provided. Watching Thomas try to manage the skewers without making a mess with humorous enough to take up the entire meal, but there was also talk about Thomas' lessons, stories from Tris and Keth's travels, and tales from Briar and Tris' childhood together. Chime sat on the table, garnering looks of admiration from passersby.

"And it was really alright for you to be on the roof?" Thomas asked in disbelief.

"It wasn't that high up," Tris replied offhandedly. "And it was fairly flat. If someone had tried to do a handstand or a cartwheel on the peak things might have changed, but we all had more common sense than that."

"We'd lay there during our rest hour and watch clouds be born," Briar added with a soft grin. "And after your sister taught me to read, she'd let me practice on her books up there so no one would laugh if I stumbled over the words."

"How could you reach my age and not know how to read?" the boy asked, completely floored.

"No one taught me," the plant mage said, and the apprentice had a hard time arguing with that. "I could pick locks, though. And throw a knife. I could climb a stone wall without a rope, and I knew how to tail someone without being seen. I could slip my hand into your pocket and out again without being caught, usually. And I taught most of it to your sister for teaching me to read so we'd be even."

"You can _pick locks?!_ " Tris hadn't thought it was possible for her brother to look at her with more awe than the time they had discussed flying. She was wrong.

"Well, yes," she said as Keth gave her a knowing grin. "I just don't do it very often. Hardly ever, really, since we were kids."

"Kids? Like...goats?" Thomas' confused frown was all the funnier as he added, "You never said anything about turning into goats..." Apparently, given what the young man had learned about his mageborn sister, he was willing to believe she could do just about anything.

The weather witch rolled her eyes as she explained, "Children. It means children. It's street slang."

"Also learned from me," Briar stuck in with a grin.

"I remember a time you broke into my rooms at the boarding house," Keth said dryly. "You weren't exactly a 'kid' then."

"That's my girl," Briar said with a proud grin. "Did you nick anything while you were at it?"

"He had nothing worth nicking," she replied wryly. "Trust me. And you didn't exactly leave me much of a choice, Keth. Not when you were running away like that."

Keth sputtered that he had so, and he had not been running away, and Thomas had been delighted as more stories came forth. The glass mage did not miss the way his teacher's husband kept one arm about her, and that they were seated close enough together that their legs likely touched under the table. Well, he thought to himself, it may have started as an act...

Eventually, Briar rose, pressing a hand on Tris' shoulder when she would have stood with him. "No, you stay and enjoy your tea," he said as he grinned at Thomas. "Me and him are going to pick out some hand pies for dessert. I just saw someone walk in with a few, and I can smell the vendor right outside the door. Move smart, lad. He won't be there long. You two just stay here; we'll be back in a moment." The look he gave Keth as he left was clear: stay where you are. In your seat.

Briar had been considering what to do since they had sat down to the meal. At first, he thought his problem was that Keth was still actually trying to court Tris, which was ridiculous. How did he think that was going to end? And then it occurred to him: Keth had been trying to apologize. A meal together in private may be the only way he thought he could manage the time alone to do it in, since Briar had rather neatly cut out any opportunity for him to dance with his teacher. And seeing her at the house without Thomas or Briar present would have been nearly impossible. It was still completely inappropriate, of course, but the plant mage could, at least, admit that the sentiment had been right. So he gave Keth the time: a careful, tiny slice of it. And a warning to go with it because Keth was not the right man for Tris.

Thomas was ruled by his stomach like most boys and jumped at the opportunity for a hot hand pie fresh off the a cart. Chime leapt up onto his shoulders and came with them out the door. Briar pulled out his coins to pay and only had to remind the lad once that they were picking enough for everyone. Six were chosen from those available, three blueberry and three apple, and then juggled inside as the steaming pastries burned unwary fingers.

Inside, Tris was waiting with a thoughtful expression on her face and Keth one of relief. The pies were welcomed and shared all around, and far too soon, it was time to leave. The master glassmaker and his apprentice had an appointment at another shop, and Tris and Briar had work of their own to attend to.

"Thank you," Tris said as soon as they were out of sight of the pair, dropping her hand from his arm.

For some reason, that bothered him, so he casually took her hand, instead. "What for?" he asked, ignoring the pointed look she gave their hands.

"For coming," she replied, meeting his gaze levelly. "And for giving Keth time to apologize."

"Did he apologize?" he said, innocently surprised. "Well, that was very nice of him."

"Hm." She didn't believe him, but she was still pleased and that pleased him. Except for one small thing buzzing in the back of his mind, that he couldn't quite get rid of.

They were almost at the house when Briar said abruptly, "Do you really think I'm insincere?"

"What in Mila's name are you talking about?" Tris replied, clearly confused.

"Earlier, you said my compliments are less sincere because I'm a flirt," he explained, his face turning red with embarrassment. "Did you really mean that?"

The flippant remark she had been about to make died in her mouth when she noticed the hurt in his eyes for the first time. "No," she said honestly. "I don't. I was only teasing."

The sigh that escaped was steeped in relief. "I know I like to flirt," he said as he pulled her a little closer. "But I mean everything I say. Everything. I wouldn't...do that to someone."

"I know," she told him with a small smile.

Briar kept his eyes anywhere but his wife as he asked softly, "Well, if you know that then why don't you believe me when I say you're beautiful?"

"Because sincerity is not the same as truth."

The plant mage was silent for a time as he pondered that, finally replying, "I hope someday you find someone who makes you realize it is."

"That's a nice sentiment," she said quietly. "But I won't hold my breath."

At the house, Briar paused only to kiss her on the cheek before he was off to his workshop. Tris went upstairs to her own, considering the day as she did. The test was...she didn't know what to think of it, honestly. Briar was acting jealously, and he did drop everything to go with her. But how could she be certain it wasn't an act? He had been serious at the end, but he hadn't attempted to persuade her that it _was_ the truth any more than he already had.

Another test, she decided and wondered if it would end in such a pleasant time together. If so, she didn't think she would mind continuing to test him until she was certain.

-090-

Two days passed, and Tris had been excited all morning about her latest batch of glass pendants. The money for the supplies had come from her mother, who had descended unexpectedly on the stall in the market two days before to buy up every perfect glass spiral they had in stock.

"For all Tris' favorite aunts and uncles and cousins," she had explained when Daja had asked why. "Shit for shits seems appropriate to me. It will make me glow with pleasure every time they wear it."

And as there were many aunts and uncles and cousins who fit in that category, Tris even had to pull what was in storage at the house to make sure everyone who deserved one got one. The result was the weather witch suddenly had enough to purchase the supplies she needed and to conduct her experiments.

The glass pendants had come out of their molds the night before and gone straight into the annealer. They had not been ready in the morning, so she had decided to go do the shopping and return in time to begin her work.

Briar offered to take the responsibility. He had been planning to with her leaving for Lightsbridge anyway. Unfortunately, the demands of the garden at high summer were more than any other time of the year, and he was struggling to stay ahead of his work as it was. Tris insisted on doing it herself and set out early with Chime twining mopily about her neck. Thomas and Keth had not stopped to pick her up that morning, and the glass dragon had been pouting ever since. Hopefully, a trip into town would distract her enough to keep any displays of temper at bay.

The mule grumbled when she urged it to move above its usual meandering walk, but her stubbornness won and she hurried as much as she dared from stall to stall. Purchases were made and stacked neatly in the back. She had a list, but it was a walk she had made so many times that she rarely consulted it anymore.

Rod, the servingman, and one of the two maids met her at the side door when she pulled in with the cart and mule, seeing to the cart and animal as she went inside and double-checked her list.

Briar entered the kitchen from the opposite door, just in time to hear her say something under her breath in Namornese that would have shocked Sandry to her core. Grinning, he slid over next to her and nudged her with one elbow. She turned red when he asked mildly in her ear, "Do you actually know what that means?"

The cook, who was busy putting the purchases away, gave them only a surprised glance before looking away again. None of her business, that's what Mistress Daja had said, and she meant to keep it that.

"Yes," she replied hotly. "And I meant it, too. I'm such an idiot."

"What happened?" he asked, heading to the sink to rinse off the roots he had brought inside.

"I forgot the coloring agents and the nitre for Chime," his wife groaned as she eyed her list.

"They are still open; you have time," Briar pointed out in puzzlement as the city bells chimed out the hour. It was only now noon. "Or you could just go tomorrow."

"There isn't enough to get us through till tomorrow, and you know how Chime gets when she's hungry. And the annealer should be about done with the pendants I've been working towards for days," she said tartly. Sighing, she put the list back in her belt pouch and turned around. "Well, it's my own fault. I should have been paying more attention. If I leave now, I might have time for a couple this afternoon before we eat dinner."

"Don't worry about it," Briar said, words coming out of his mouth without thought. "I can go get it for you."

"You can?" Tris eyed his dirt-stained work clothes, clearly surprised.

"Sir," Rod said respectfully as he walked in with the last crate of supplies. "There's a messenger from the florist, sir: he wants to know if you will have the flowers ready for tonight as promised."

"Oh," the plant mage said, scowling as his wife hid a half-smile. "Lakik's teeth, I forgot-"

"Don't worry about it. I can go get it," Tris said as she patted his arm. "It is my own fault, but thank you for trying."

"Is there something you forgot, Mistress Tris?" Rod asked as he stacked the empty crates from the cart together against the wall. "Only I was going to take the cart for more feed for the donkey, I could pick up whatever it is you need while I'm out."

"He's good with coin," the cook added with a hint of pride as she continued her own work. "They won't cheat him, Mistress Tris."

It was something the weather witch normally wouldn't have even considered, but her project was waiting, and Rod was perfectly capable. "Well, I suppose, if you don't mind."

"I don't mind, Mistress," Rod said with quick duck of his head. "Did you have it written down, or should I fetch some paper Mistress Tris?"

"I have it here," Tris said as she handed her list over. "Only the coloring agents and the nitre. The amount for each is beside it."

The man checked to be sure he understood and placed the paper carefully in his pocket. "Very good, Mistress. I'll go on, then."

"And you can go do your charms," Briar said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I better get on too, so I finish in time."

"See you at dinner?" she said, already halfway out the door.

"Yeah."

Briar told himself he had work to do and being jealous of their servingman was not only ridiculous, it was downright stupid. It's what they were paying the man for, after all, to run and fetch things and do work around the house. Him offering to get something for Tris was simply a man doing his job. Besides, he was married to one of the maids, and so far as Briar could tell, the man had never looked at Tris twice. Or anyone besides his wife, for that matter.

"Stupid bleater," he muttered to himself as he began to trim marigolds and yarrow blooms from his garden. "It don't matter if he's getting the stuff so long as it's got, so she could get back to her work. Even if Rod hadn't been going out, it would have been a waste of an afternoon for you. Rod can't work the garden, not like you. He can't make the medicines or the scents or anything else; you have to do that. And he's paid to run errands. Sending him would have made sense because then you can do what you're good at and make more coin. Not that it matters, she _still_ won't let me help her buy her supplies..."

The florist generally used his own suppliers, but something had happened. He had come up short for a promised order. Buying from Briar was expensive, but the plant mage's flowers were always good. Besides, he was reliable and timely. The plant mage, of course, didn't always have what was needed, but when he did, he was happy to sell it at a price that reflected the quality of his goods without gouging the flower vendor too much.

When Rod returned that afternoon, Briar was still grumbling to himself as he finished cleaning up from his work.

"Master Briar?" the servingman said, stopping in the garden a few steps further back from the young man than usual.

"Yes?" the plant mage asked, unaware of his scowl.

"Sir, I have Mistress Tris' order, sir," the servant replied, face carefully blank as he remained out of arm's reach. "But I cannot take it upstairs, sir. Should I leave it in the kitchen for her, sir, or...?" The young man referred to the house rule of him never going upstairs, unless accompanied by one of the maids. Given the hour, both maids would be busy in the kitchens helping prepare dinner.

The mage paused, then straightened slowly. "Leave it in the kitchen," he said after a moment's thought. "I'll be heading up in a moment; I can take it to her workroom."

"Very good, sir." Biar looked up when he realized the servant was still standing there, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Was there something else?" he asked, giving the man a puzzled look.

"Only, sir, that I hope you aren't upset with me," the man replied with a rueful grin. "For picking up the items needed, sir."

"I'm not," the plant mage said quickly, feeling guilty as he did. "I had other things to do, and you were already going out. It was a logical decision."

"Yes, well, logic doesn't generally play much into it sometimes, sir," the servant replied absently. "Thank you, sir. Will you be needing anything else?"

"No, thank you, Rod."

"Very good, sir."

Briar hurried himself through the rest of his clean up, picking up the plainly wrapped bundles from the kitchen before taking the stairs two at a time to the third floor. The shield was down over the workroom, but Briar knocked anyways. A moment later the shield was down, and he peeked his head in the door with a grin.

"I've got your coloring agents and nitre," he said when she looked up at him in puzzlement from her work. Glass pendants with their new copper coils were laid out in rows on her tabletop, along with tools for inscribing and other paraphenalia.

"You didn't have to bring it up," she replied with a crooked smile. "I could have gotten it when I came down to dinner."

"It might have taken you two loads," her husband said as he placed the bundles on a clear end of the table. "They're pretty heavy. Besides, I don't mind."

"I would have just used some wind," the weather witch said with a shrug. "But thank you all the same."

"Did you get done what you wanted to?" he asked as she opened the top one to fill the bowls used to feed Chime.

"I did," she replied with a genuine smile. "And it's definitely closer. There's still a few design problems, though. But...well, you need to get changed for dinner. We can talk about it later."

"I'll hold you to that," he told her as he turned to leave. Next time, he told himself as he went to clean up, feeling the shield resume behind him as he closed the door. You'll get it next time; whatever it is she needs. Being a good husband and all.

Right?

-090-

Author's Notes:

WAIT! CB! You posted this chapter a day early!

Yes, I did, and here is why: as you read this, I am preparing (or have already left) to drive 8.5 hours one way(assuming no accidents or construction traffic) to a wedding and back in three days. As I am attempting to be leaving my house at 5 am my time on Friday, and will be either driving or involved in family stuff and unable to access my laptop until Monday morning, I decided early was better than late.

You know what would be a lovely present? Reviews. Like, a ton, filling my inbox to bursting for me to find on my phone sometime Saturday morning before the crazy begins again or Sunday evening after I get home. Just a thought.

Thank you to those of you who did review last time (and to my first anonymous reviewer, thanks!). The warm fuzzies and wonderful comments are always appreciated.

Until next week (on Friday!)

~CB~


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Sandry had put this visit off for far too long. But it had been one thing after another, and before she realized it, another week was gone without having addressed the problem. It really wasn't the best time to drop in for a long discussion, Briar would be busy in his gardens weeding for summer, and she honestly didn't have the time. A short chat would have to do, then. Get in, address the issue, and leave. Briar would see sense; he usually did when it was shown to him.

The stitch-witch had planned her visit as carefully as she could, given the short notice. As soon as she was certain Tris was under her shields working, she stopped where she was in her list of errands in the city and headed for the house. She didn't bother with the front door; she could tell through their bond he was in the back as soon as she rode up. Her guards waited in the front with the horses, and she hurried through the gate, questing ahead with her mind to find her brother.

Briar met her on path, having felt her arrival and searching presence. "What's wrong?" he asked as she came into view.

"We need to talk, but I'm in a hurry," she replied frankly as he followed her to a nearby bench.

"You could have just..." He meant the bond, but she quickly shook her head as she settled herself on the seat and motioned for him to do so as well.

"I didn't want Tris to hear," she explained as she settled herself, careful to avoid the dirt that stained his own clothes. It would wipe right off, but she would rather not take the time. "I came as soon as I was sure she was under shields."

"Her parents?" he asked, growing worried.

"No," she said, feeling the press of time all the more as she tried to pay attention to her brother and Tris' workroom at the same time. It made her more abrupt that she might have been otherwise. "Briar, I watched you together at the ball. You're getting too...attached."

"What do you mean?" The words were clipped, and he looked ready to dig in his heels stubbornly.

"Briar, please just listen to me," she said, meeting his eyes firmly but attempting to project concern instead of command. If he thought she was ordering him or trying to drag him to a conclusion by force, he'd refuse to budge an inch. She had to make him see sense. "I've seen you with women before… several times. I know the signs. You're treating her like one of your 'flowers for picking'. The compliments, the flirting, the cuddling. You're even acting _jealous_."

"I'm suppose to act jealous," he snapped, dropping his eyes to his feet. "Especially with the way Keth was acting. What was I supposed to do? If I hadn't, her parents would have been suspicious."

"And when Uncle stole her away for a dance?" she asked primly. "You acted downright petulant."

"I did not!" he cried, face turning scarlet with rage and embarrassment. "I'm not some child."

"You might want to tell your face that," she retorted hotly. "Because you most certainly looked like one." The stitch witch snapped her mouth shut as she realized what she was doing. Prodding his temper wouldn't help, and she needed him to see reason _now_. There was no telling how much time they had left. Clearing her throat, she decided to try another route. "I know you, Briar. You don't change much girl to girl. First, you start with the flirting and the compliments, putting her hand on your arm and going about some. Maybe dancing, if there's a ball. Next, if she's interested, you'll take her somewhere private for a meal. Just the two of you, outside somewhere. Have you planned something like that with Tris since the ball?"

"Yes, but-" The defensive reply died as he finally saw what she was getting at, his mouth falling open into a silent 'o'. "Lunch," he said softly. "I was going to take her to lunch outside the city."

"After the lecture you got regarding tending a wife from Valden, I'm not surprised," Sandry said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. "But you're not just pretending for him, are you, Briar?"

"Damn. Damn, damn, damn." The words were muffled by the hands that now covered his face, his mind reeling back through the last few weeks as he considered his actions in a new light. Caring whether or not she thought his compliments were real. Protecting her from Keth when she didn't need it. Keeping her to himself the entire evening of the ball. Pretending he wasn't actually getting attached, telling himself he was going to help her find someone better. Right. Given his actions, he'd never have let anyone else close enough until it was too late.

"It's not your fault; it's what you do," Sandry replied as kindly as she could. "You court someone, dally for a bit, and move on. You've repeated this pattern of behavior so many times, it probably never occurred to you what was happening." His muted groan was his only response, and she sighed. "You know you can't go on like this," she added when nothing more came. "Courting her like this, I mean."

"Do you think Tris...?" he asked, face still buried in his hands.

"No," she said quickly, adding in a rush, "Well, yes, probably. Chances are, she thinks you're just playing as usual and has given it no more thought past that. But if you aren't careful you're going to draw her into something she won't be able to come away from cleanly like you do, Briar. You are very good at attracting a woman when you want, and Tris hasn't the skill to keep her distance the way you do. She could get hurt, really hurt. I know that's not what you want."

"Of course not," he said, feeling something squeeze painfully in his chest. Just playing as usual, of course. Why would she ever believe he might have actually been serious? He never had been before. "I would never..."

"Then you need to back off a little," Sandry hurried on, glancing up towards the workroom once more. "Not enough to worry her parents, but enough to put some distance between you. It's summer now, say the garden is taking your time and attention. Valden's a businessman; he'll probably understand. So will Tris. Give it a good week or two, and if we're wrong and she did notice she'll probably think she imagined it."

"Yeah, that's...that's a good plan," he agreed distantly, barely able to focus through the guilt that was welling up inside.

"Briar, don't blame yourself for this," his sister warned him sternly as she finally caught his eyes. Compassion radiated from her gaze, and she continued, "You've always loved women, loved making them happy. Being married, you'd naturally want to make Tris happy. But this situation isn't fair to either of you. Would you even be acting this way if you weren't married to her?"

The plant mage found himself unable to reply immediately. His conversation with Valden, and then the following one with Master Brustwort immediately came to mind. Tris was incredible, and if he had seen it he would have probably done something about it. If she was interested, of course. But that was really the crux of it, wasn't it? 'If he had seen it.' If his mind hadn't been so clouded with things that weren't important to see the amazing woman who had stood with him through so much. Could he claim, in all honesty, to a person who knew him almost as well as Tris that he hadn't stumbled on the find of a lifetime by pure fool luck? That he had seen the truth for himself, and intended this all along?

A glance at Sandry showed her arms crossed over her chest, eyes full of understanding and knowing but most of all certainty. She was protecting Tris and him from a terrible mistake, and he should be grateful for her intervention. He should be, he told himself over and over again. This was for the best. Because, even if maybe somewhere deep inside he had been harboring an ill considered grain of hope that what they had was more, it couldn't be. Not when she deserved better than him.

Briar couldn't say the words. They would not have been true, could not have been true. The only reason they were having this conversation was the marriage and his inability to keep his distance, which meant she had to be right. "No, probably not," he agreed reluctantly.

"Precisely," she said, as though that settled it. "If you need something, you know where to find me, but I need to go for now." The words gave birth to the deed, and she adjusted her skirts as she added, "Just hang in there; it won't be long now. Will you be able to manage, or do I need to have a quiet word with Tris?"

"No," he said quickly, smoothing his face as he shoved the roiling in his gut aside for the moment. "No, this is my mess. I'll take care of it."

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

She pressed a hand on his cheek this time, forcing him to meet her eyes. "I don't blame you," she said softly, "but I will if Tris gets hurt. Fix it now that you know, and don't do it again."

"I won't hurt her," he promised solemnly. "And I'll fix it." She nodded and left as quickly as she'd arrived.

Dropping his face back to his hands the young man wondered at himself in disgust. Just playing along, never thinking for a moment of the consequences of his actions. It was the lies we told ourselves that were the hardest to see, Master Brunstwort had said. Maybe he should go see the old man. He didn't have an appointment today, but he had seen Briar without one before, and he would know what to do.

No, it was his mess as he'd told Sandry. He wasn't broken up inside anymore. Not really. He was a man, one who could stand on his own two feet and handle his own problems. And he already knew what he needed to do. Tris may be disappointed; he thought she might have begun to enjoy being doted over, but it was best to start as he meant to finish, or he'd never see it through.

Not your wife, he told himself as he began to lay his plans. Your sister.

Your sister.

-090-

When Briar had asked the day before if she wanted to spend the afternoon together, Tris had agreed after only a moment of thought. There might be another chance to place an impromptu test. Also, she had reached an impasse with her own work and wanted a distraction for a day or two. Usually, that would be a book or exploring some nook of the city she hadn't seen before. The second, though, was growing scarce and the first wasn't suited to her mood for once.

Tris had seen him romance enough women to guess what sort of outing it would be. He would take her somewhere to eat, most likely. Or purchase food to take to a quiet spot. A garden, she thought. Or maybe the beach. She had dressed in something light and comfortable but still nice enough for an eating house, so she wouldn't be embarrassed if she was wrong.

However, Briar met her downstairs, still in his gardening clothes. She gave him a puzzled look, and he grinned and shrugged. "I was going to take you out to eat," he admitted ruefully, "but something came up."

"We can go another time," she said quickly, wondering if she had misinterpreted his excitement over the plans the day before and ignoring the disappointment growing in her chest. He only nodded, glancing back towards his garden and she added, "You look busy, so..."

"No, we'll still have lunch together," he cut in quickly. "Just here at the house. And I thought maybe I could help you with your rain-shield charm problem while we eat." He hadn't been able to bring himself to completely cancel his plans, and truth be told, he didn't have enough work in progress to justify hurrying through his meal. He would be done early then, and he didn't want to start anything he couldn't finish that late in the afternoon. This was the perfect compromise. They would spend time together, so she would have something to tell her mother about, but it wouldn't be private or intimate. The gardens could be seen by most of the windows on the back of the house, and the servants would be about their work nearby.

"How?" she asked, referring to his offer of help.

"I don't know," he admitted with another shrug. "But you've only told me bits and pieces of what you've tried. Sometimes, just going over the process from the beginning will show you something you missed before. And since I haven't seen it all before, maybe I'll think of something you haven't. Thomas gave you part of a solution, maybe between us we can figure out the rest." He didn't mention Keth's contribution. He didn't trust himself to keep a straight face and whatever Briar was able to add wouldn't be about the composition of the pendants anyways. He simply didn't know enough about glass to do so.

Tris agreed after a moment of thought and went to fetch her notes and lapdesk as Briar saw to their food and seating.

They sprawled under the single large tree, seated on an old blanket and enjoying the breeze she had persuaded to blow through the garden. It took time to go through the process from the beginning, but Briar didn't mind. He liked listening to her talk about her work: she grew animated over her discoveries and setbacks. It was a side of her few ever got to see, and that always made him feel a little bit special.

Lunch was eaten from a tray that sat between them, chilled tea and sandwiches cut into bite-sized pieces. Tiny honey cakes and an entire basket of fresh blueberries. Briar lay on his stomach after he finished, and Tris soon joined him as she spread her notes out for him to see. He studied her sketches and notes as she showed him the progression she had charted out and noticed that most of her notes from the last few weeks were in a deep blue ink. That was when he realized she was using the pen she had given him.

"Do you like the pen?" he asked as she searched for a paper that was out of order from the rest.

"I do," she replied absently. "Ah, there you are...and the ink. It's a nice color. Will you tell me where you got it? I'd like to get some more; it's almost gone."

"It came with the pen," he said. "From your favorite glass stall in the market."

"I'll have to ask them then. There isn't a stamp on the bottle to say who makes it. What do you think of this...?"

Briar found he couldn't contribute much to the project and said so dejectedly as they reached the end of her notes. When his companion didn't respond, he glanced over to see her scribbling furiously on a fresh piece of paper.

"Had an idea, have you?" he asked ruefully.

"Yes, and thank you for making me go through it from the beginning," she said, dropping an impulsive kiss on his cheek before she was bustling to her feet, gathering her notes as she went. "It was exactly what I needed to see my way forward."

"Oh, well, you're welcome," he said, fighting furiously against the blush that threatened to consume his face. "Will you be making more pendants, then?"

"Soon, yes."

"Will you tell me when you go to pour them? I'd like to watch." The question was out before he could consider how it might be taken. Quickly, he added, "The pulling demonstration was really interesting. I'd just like to know more. Or if it doesn't work out I could go watch the other guy. I'd just like to see it, really."

Tris paused, pushing her glasses back up from the tip of her nose. "I'll tell you when," she said with a small smile. "But if you're busy, I'll understand. And Master Barriton is interesting to observe. I'm sorry to run, but I need to talk to Daja about how thin she thinks I could make the wire."

"No, go, while it's fresh in your mind," he said, waving her away while congratulating himself on a job well done. They had a meal together, mostly alone, and it hadn't been romantic in the least. The fact that he had enjoyed himself far more than he had on any usual outing wooing a girl was entirely beside the point.

Indeed, the young man was so pleased with himself that when he went into the city the next day to order some special-made pots for a project, he swung by the glass stall and asked where the special blue ink had come from. They sent him to a shop across town, which he promptly went to because it would be wrong of him to send his wife there without being sure that it was safe and reputable first. It was, of course, but so long as he was there he went in and purchased a bottle. It would save her the trouble later and would be an apology for cutting their extended outing short.

He left it on her worktable as soon as he returned, Tris still closeted with Daja as they worked on something in the smith mage's forge. Later that afternoon, the weather witch found it and picked it up in surprise.

She had mentally kicked herself for hours the night after their lunch together, thinking he would never take such a subtle hint about the ink but not knowing how else to mention it without sounding greedy. And here it was, barely a day later, and he had already made time to go and pick some up for her even with as busy as he was.

The warmth Tris had been fighting in her chest grew a little bit more, and for once, she didn't immediately shove it away. Maybe, she told herself quietly as she carefully placed the ink beside its nearly empty twin on a shelf and held her hands to still the fluttering in her stomach.

Maybe.

-090-

For the most part, Sandry was an excellent clothes maker. She managed things with simple thread and cloth that made grown men weep. But, just like everyone else, she wasn't perfect and sometimes made mistakes.

To be fair, she had offered to fix the dress more than once. And it was a favorite of Tris', but she felt bad asking Sandry to do more than she already was. Really, the mistake was more a matter of convenience than anything else and explained why Sandry had thought nothing of it as she made it. She had a ladies maid, after all. The dress had been made with tiny silver buttons that marched up Tris' spine. And because it was made for hotter weather, the collar stopped a few inches below her neck in the back. All this was to say, she couldn't quite reach the top three buttons to fasten them herself.

Still, the day promised to be an oven, if her weather senses were right, and Tris decided it would be convenient to put need and want together in a single package. So when she went to dress in the bathroom, she told the rising Briar in passing, "I can't reach the top three buttons, do you mind since you're already here?"

"No," he replied with a yawn as he stretched and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. "Not at all." He had helped all three with buttons at one time or another, and he mused that girls clothes always seemed so silly. Why wear something you couldn't manage yourself? Of course, he liked the way those same silly clothes looked on girls, so maybe they weren't so silly after all.

Into the bathroom Tris went. Briar, once alone, changed quickly into the lightest clothes he owned. The garden would need tending, even in this terrible heat, and he wanted to start as early as possible.

He was finger combing the tangles out of his hair when his wife came back out and said, "I'm ready."

It took a moment for his still-foggy mind to catch up. Mila, the heat. What was it- oh, right, her dress. He turned around, hands coming up to perform a task they had done many times before. Absently, he went to fasten the first button when his brain noticed something his eyes had not.

Black lace and dark blue satin.

"Briar?" he heard Tris quietly prompt some time later.

"Ah," he replied, his voice higher than normal as he tried to swallow. "S-sorry." The pink that had begun to creep into her skin made it worse, and he fumbled his way through them after multiple false starts.

Tris waited silently and, when he finished, turned slowly around to see his back as he disappeared out the door. The back of his neck had been solid red.

Well, she thought to herself, hands shaking as she let herself sit on the bed. That was... unexpected. Her mind tried to sort through what had just happened, and she found she couldn't. It was simply too much.

Later, she told herself, taking a deep breath as she forced herself back to her feet and clasped her hands together in front of her. Give it some time, and consider it later. She needed distance. She needed perspective. She needed logic.

Swallowing the half-hysterical laughter that tried to bubble up her throat, she went downstairs.

-090-

It was later in the afternoon when Briar finally finished for the day. It was still so warm, though, that rather than going upstairs to bathe he simply filled a barrel by his workroom, stripped to the waist and washed. He took a clean shirt from the stash in his workroom and sighed as he enjoyed the soft breeze on his still-damp skin. It felt good, and he had no desire to go inside and lose it just yet.

Slowly, the tired mage made his way to his favorite seat in the garden. The wooden, swinging bench had been a wedding gift. He'd wanted one like it for awhile and revelled in the chance to actually use it as he sprawled out and gently began to rock. He felt half-asleep, like a tomcat drowsing lazily in a patch of sunlight. Time seemed to move like honey, bees buzzing quietly among the flowers as the heat pressed down on the city and slowed its normal bustle to a crawl.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed before Tris came out, a tray in her hands that held a plate, a pitcher, and a book.

"Too hot to eat?" she asked as she set the tray on a small table and sat next to him on the swing. It was easily wide enough for two or three, but he scooted over to make room for her just the same.

"Not if it's your cookies," he replied speculatively, seeing the plate covered with a cloth napkin.

"It's not," she said with a knowing grin. "There's juice in the pitcher and cold pastries on the plate."

"Mm, maybe in a minute."

Tris didn't reply, merely tucking her legs under herself as she opened the book and leaned against his shoulder. He glanced down at her for a moment, at the back of her freckled neck and the few free curls there with her braids neatly tucked in their snood. At the buttons that seemed to mock him and his clumsy fingers that morning.

He blushed at the memory but was distracted when the breeze began to pick up.

"Too much?" Tris asked as she felt him shift behind her.

"No," he said, looping one arm about her shoulders casually to pull her closer to him. "Just right."

He didn't need to see her face to know she was smiling.

They stayed that way in the fading light, until Tris put down her book with a regretful sigh and rubbed at her eyes under her spectacles.

"Too dark?" he asked, blinking tiredly himself.

"Yes, and no, I don't want your lightstone," she replied softly. "I'll read more before I sleep."

"Sleep in this heat?" he grumbled, wiping at the sweat that still trickled down his face. "Might as well sleep here: it'll be cooler."

"Not in my room." Tris could not hide the smugness from her voice as she added, "I kept a strong breeze blowing through it all day. It might almost be cool once the sun sets."

Briar could not deny there were advantages to being in Tris' bed. "Have I told you today how amazing you are?" he asked in a wheedling tone.

"You have not," she said with mock gravity.

"My mistake then, oh amazing one," he said, voice full of solemn apology. "The stars themselves would sing your praise if they could: you are so amazing."

Tris chuckled, but snorted, "You're only saying that because my room will be cooler than your garden."

"It's still true." He pulled her closer for a moment, and she didn't resist. Indeed, when he loosened his grip, she turned slightly so her head rested against his shoulder.

That drew his attention back to her neck, and the freckles and the curls and those tantalizing silver buttons. Of their own accord, his fingers rose, going first to tease the coppery locks that had escaped the braids and snood. She sighed, relaxing further as he did. The effect seemed so pronounced, that when he trailed one finger down her neck to the top of her spine and kept going she hardly seemed to notice. He didn't pause when he reached the first button, instead swirling his finger in lazy swoops around each tiny, silver knob.

He did stop when he reached the middle of her back and trailed his finger tip instead to trace the lace-edged patterns sewn around the neck of the dress.

It was a few moments later when he realized what he was feeling. There, under the fabric, was a ridge of some kind that wasn't another layer of anything she was wearing. Without thinking about it he traced it instead, finding it to be as long as one of his fingers and nearly as wide before disappearing under the top of her (blue satin, black lace trimmed) corset.

That was when he realized Tris had gone rigid against him.

"Does it hurt?" he asked, removing his hand immediately. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No," she cut in roughly. "It doesn't hurt. It hasn't for a long time."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

It took awhile for her to decide, and he waited patiently while she did. She described her uncle, a man prone to smiles and gifts, who had agreed to take her first after she'd been sent away from her home. His smiles had not extended to a child suspected of being inhuman, and his son had fancied himself a specialist on the occult. They had tried many things to 'rid her of her curse'; obviously, none had worked. The final attempt had been one of pain to drive the spirit out. The beating had not worked, neither had the needles under her fingernails. The son had been loath to leave any permanent marks; his father had not. The hot poker had struck her only once, but it had been enough to mark her. It had also failed to 'eradicate her evil', whatever that meant.

Tris was never certain what had happened next. Reeling from the pain, she had been dragged to the servant's quarters and left to be tended by a maid. The servant had had to be threatened to even touch her, claiming something about a lightning bolt from heaven nearly gutting a massive oak outside when she had screamed. As soon as she had recovered enough to ride in a wagon, she had been sent away.

"I _hate_ my scars," she hissed, so quietly that he had to strain to catch the words.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely surprised.

"They're ugly," she said harshly, her voice barely above a croak. "And they remind me that I was too weak to stop it from happening."

"Tris, there's nothing ugly about you," Briar protested, pulling back slightly. The edge of her face as all that was visible as the moon began to rise, but it was enough to see her shake her head slowly.

"You haven't seen them."

"I don't need to," he insisted stubbornly. "Scars are proof that you survived, only dead flesh doesn't heal."

"That is very easy to say when yours are small and covered in tattoos." Her hand came up to touch his palm lightly, tracing the two marks that a briar vine had given him over a decade ago and the smaller lump between them that was his piece of their circle of threads.

Gently, Briar took her hand and turned her around to face him. Then, guiding her hand with his he traced her fingertips over a ridge behind one ear.

"When I first joined the gang," he said quietly, not quite looking at her, "one of the shopkeepers caught me with a lucky throw of a rock. We didn't have proper stuff to clean wounds with, so I got this."

Tris blushed at the feel of his breath on her skin and hoped he couldn't tell in the bare light of the half moon.

"No infection?" she asked, her voice steadier than she had hoped.

"No." His teeth flashing white against the dark was all she could see of his smirk. "I was lucky that time. This one got infected, though." He brought her hand back to his palm, and she fought the shiver that ran down her spine as his fingers curled over hers. "They had to pay for a healer; our leader was furious. I was useful, though, so he did. This one..."

Tris wasn't sure what to think when he pulled her closer still. This time his fingers pressed hers against a thick line along his ribs on the left side, easily felt through his thin shirt. The ridge wasn't wide, though, and likely hadn't been deep. "Evvy," he explained quietly, "learned she could shatter certain rocks without touching them. The first time was an accident. It upsets her, so I tried not to talk about it, even after we got back. There wasn't a healer around, other than Rosethorn, so I got this."

"You're a good teacher, Briar," she said, uncertain she could have been as forgiving, if her student had done something similar.

"Well, then there's this one." This time he brought her hand to his thigh and traced a thick rope of a scar that ran for nearly a foot in a slight curve towards his knee. Initially, Tris had felt her face nearly burst into flame at the action, but it had quickly drained away to cold horror as she realized what she was feeling through his old work pants.

She didn't say anything, just sat there with her hand under his as he tried to work through the sudden tightness in his chest.

"I don't think," he finally said after a long while. "That I've ever told anyone about this one. You just mention the war and people leave it alone. No one wants to hear about it." Tris didn't respond. There were no words for the fear that had bunched into a cold, hard knot in her chest, so she waited and finally he went in a hoarse whisper. "I did something stupid, tried to play the hero where I had no business being. The soldier who wounded me was already a dead man; he just didn't know it yet. I jumped away from him when he swung his sword, fast enough that he didn't slice anything immediately vital but not so fast that he didn't get my leg. An inch more to one side or the other, and I might have bled out in moments."

"They took me to Rosethorn. She was able to stitch it up, stem the bleeding." Tris didn't need to see his face to know he was wearing his usual rueful grin, the one he always wore when describing Rosethorn's wrath. "She was pretty upset with me."

"What did Evvy say?" she asked, surprised to find she could speak past the lump in her throat.

"She wasn't there because we thought she was dead."

The story tumbled out in fits and starts. His decision to help the troops and protect Rosethorn. Leaving Evvy where she should have been safe. Hearing about the fort, being given the rolled mat of stones. Mourning alone and then again when Rosethorn returned. The guilt and the rage that had consumed him for a time. Not even finding her alive but having her find them, riding on the back of some strange beast and accompanied by a talking stone. He had never told anyone this story except his soul healer and then only once.

Tris just listened, still and silent as the night around them and, when he was done, turned the hand on his leg over to grip his fiercely.

"I'm very glad you came home," she told him, voice barely above a whisper. "We wouldn't be _us_ without you."

"I'm glad too," he said as he pulled her close again. She wrapped her arms about his chest and held tight as she blinked back tears. He held her tighter still, pressing her to him as though afraid to let go.

After a time, Briar relaxed but didn't let go as he started speaking again. "Tris, I can understand not wanting to let every person on the street see your scars. They aren't ugly, but they are personal. Just don't feel like you have to hide them from the people who love you. We don't care, and we think you're beautiful."

She wasn't expecting the kiss on the cheek, his other hand coming up to cup the side of her face, and the simply sincerity of it left her a little breathless. Whatever may have followed was cut short by Rod.

"Master Briar?" the serving man called hesitantly from the kitchen door.

"Over here," the ex-thief said as he rose from the bench with some reluctance. Tris stayed where she was, sitting very still, and listened as the older man asked if Briar wanted him to tidy his tools before he left. The plant mage had left several things out, and they would get damp and rust if left overnight.

Briar said no: he would see to it himself. He had only been resting from the heat. Rod agreed that it had been a terribly hot day. They both laughed about something she couldn't hear, and then Briar went to put away his abandoned tools.

Tris got up when he went inside with an armload and was almost to her balcony when he came out again. He thought nothing of it; it was usually cooler higher up and continued his work as he put everything to rights from a hard day's labor.

A stronger breeze, Tris thought as she fanned her burning cheeks with one hand, before my face bursts into flame. Her winds obliged, and her cheeks cooled but did nothing for the storming mass of emotions inside.

The first thing she did was seat herself on her circular rug, take a deep breath, and start to meditate. It wouldn't necessarily give her answers, but it always helped calm her towards rationality once more. Usually, that was for her temper, but this was something else entirely.

Objectivity, she told herself as she continued to breath in and out in measured counts even once the calm she desired had been achieved. Test results can be skewed unless you treat them with absolute objectivity. She had now tested Briar five times, and her results were as followed. The first two tests had been inconclusive but leaning towards a positive result. The third had been a partial positive. And then there was the fourth and fifth test.

Tris had, in truth, been spying on Briar both times using their bond. He probably would have noticed (and she considered that a test in and of itself), if he hadn't been so intently consumed by his own thoughts. It wasn't quite like having someone talk to you: thoughts were complex things of emotions and words and pictures formed together in no particular order except how the mind behind those thoughts associated them.

For example, when Briar had gone to button her dress, she was fairly certain it had been the corset that had begun his train of thought. That hadn't been intentional, she had picked it because it was the lightest corset of the five she now owned. She hadn't even realized he'd be able to see the top edge when he buttoned her dress.

From her vantage, there had been something about recognizing that particular combination of colors, followed by a very clear picture of the corset itself. What had followed had been very disjointed and leapt from thought to thought almost without pause. There were fragments of what she thought were poetry, and something she had assumed was a memory of a dream or a daydream. Those were always distant recollections, but she had been almost certain the figure in them was meant to be her. There had been a debate in the background about 'with or without', which she admittedly hadn't understood and mostly ignored. Then, there had been a second memory, and this one she had known was of an actual event. First, by its clarity, and second, by the fact that she recognized it, after a moment.

So he had been there that night she had unintentionally slept in her shift, and for a moment, Tris was annoyed Briar had never mentioned it. Then she was hit with the naked desire etched into the memory, and that had almost been enough to break her hold on her concentration. She certainly hadn't felt very desirable at the time, which made it all the more potent. She'd been exhausted, and her body still protesting its treatment at the Citadel. She would have said it would be impossible for someone to find her the least bit attractive right then.

Clearly, she'd been wrong.

The memory had run through multiple iterations, the time running in short jerks as his mind sped through the 'unimportant' bits to what he really wanted to see. First, what she'd been originally be wearing, then a flimsy something similar to the 'nightgown' but not quite the same. One with the blue corset, then the green. Then the green again, with the matching grey boots. Then the original. The green (no boots). The wedding corset. The 'nightgown'. The shift.

She'd lost track of herself for awhile; it was simply too overwhelming to remain in contact and not give her presence away. Finally, she'd withdrawn completely and called his name.

That single word had broken through, and he'd fumbled his way through a task that should have been quick and easy. For some reason, that had been all the more endearing. She'd wanted to say something, to thank him at least, but he'd rushed out the door before she could put words in a proper order. Not that she was certain she could have put words in any proper order after wading that flood of emotions. She'd barely been able to tell the cook what she wanted for breakfast ten minutes later in the kitchen.

Tris had spent hours debating what to do next. The work she had done had not required all that much attention. Numbers were easy, and she'd balanced the house ledger against the receipts quickly and confidently. Next had come checking with the housekeeper and the cook, to discuss what they needed and when they needed it. Lists were drawn up, and Tris promised to have it taken care of in due time. Both were satisfied, and all the while, she had continued her internal argument back and forth.

At the end of it, she had decided her best course of action would be to attempt the final test. Initiate affection. She hadn't been sure how, if it was forced she had a feeling he would know. Something different than her usual pats on the shoulder or playing with his hair when he asked. But she couldn't overplay or underplay her hand. Either direction would give her unreliable data.

The day had been long and hot, and Briar had spent all of it in his garden, hard at work. Rod had told her when he finally stopped and cleaned up for the day, and she had the cook put together a tray for her to take out to where she was sure he would go to rest. The swing was a favorite of hers too, and she had spent some very comfortable hours there with a book and a pot of tea.

He was there, as she'd predicted, and rocking himself gently with his long legs. For a moment, she admired the lean lines of his body. He was handsome: there was no denying that. She hadn't expected him to eat—it was still too hot for that—but she made the offer. And then she sat down.

Usually, it wouldn't be right next to him, or if they had touched, it would be her elbow against his or her feet tucked next to his leg. Instead, she had put her back to him, leaned against his solid warmth, and pretended to read.

That part hadn't been hard. She'd picked a novel she knew well and flipped a page now and again for appearances sake. But other than to pull her closer after she strengthened the breeze, he just sat there and radiated contentment. In time, her eyes began to read the pages of their own accord, and she let herself be drawn into the familiar story.

When the light grew too dim, she closed the novel and set it aside. They had spoken about the heat, and she couldn't quite hide her self satisfaction when she'd informed him that her room wouldn't be too hot to sleep in tonight. He'd tightened his hold on her for a moment, and she'd felt his smile as he had. Turning her head to his shoulder had seemed natural, so she had. Then, she'd closed her eyes and began to meditate again.

Her instincts had been right this time. She felt the moment his interest was piqued, though this time it resembled more a bed of coals glowing to life than the unchecked furnace blast of earlier. She was briefly distracted from her observations by gentle fingers being drawn through the few stray curls at the back of her neck.

It was like the simple action was drawing all the tension from her body in a single, persistent sweep. She remained boneless as she felt a finger tip trace down the back of her neck and spine to the top of her dress. What she would have done if he'd gone with his first thought and popped the button open, she wasn't sure. The lazy loops, though, she'd been able to accept with equanimity. There was interest but also respect. She liked that.

Tris had floated there for awhile, enjoying the attention more than she had anticipated when she realized he'd noticed the scar. It was the only one that could be felt through the thin dress, the rest were covered by the corset and most of those had faded to bare ghosts of their former selves.

Still, she felt herself stiffening at the touch, her stomach dropping in horror as she realized it didn't matter what the tests showed or how either of them felt. Her scars. She could never show him her scars. He would be repulsed by them; what man wouldn't be? They were ugly. They were signs of weakness, proof she hadn't been strong enough to protect herself. She hadn't thought about them in years, most of them she couldn't even see, but still...

"Does it hurt?" he had asked, removing his hand quickly. "I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"No," she had cut in roughly as she tried to blink away the tears that threatened to fall. "It doesn't hurt. It hasn't for a long time."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

Tris had wanted to refuse. She had also felt his pain, and his confusion and concern. So she told him.

"I _hate_ my scars." And she meant it too. It wasn't something she had considered before seriously, that in order for her to have the kind of closeness with another person that she dreamed of she would have to show them everything. Everything including the scars.

He had been so tender as he'd turned her around and guided her hand to behind his left ear. She'd never noticed the thin, warped ridge of flesh before, but she could feel it beneath his tight curls. Then he'd shown her his hand, his ribs, his leg. The last still struck her in a way she couldn't describe. He had almost died. Briar had almost been taken from them, from her. Tris had known it had been bad: they'd discussed parts of it. He'd talked about the killing, the blood, the dead before. But she'd never really considered the possibility that he might not have made it home. The thought that he almost didn't survive the war had been enough to drive the air from her lungs.

Then, he'd told her about Evvy. About believing the child had been killed when they'd left her in a place that should have been safe. About being driven by guilt and revenge because he couldn't see anything else. About finding her alive or, rather. being found by her. He'd been vague on the details, but she supposed almost dying might have something to do with that.

Tris had meant what she said. She was glad he had come home. What she didn't say was she might have razed Yanjing to the ground, if he hadn't.

Briar had meant what he'd said in turn. That he loved her, and he didn't care about her scars and he still thought she was beautiful. Oh, he had said 'we', but she'd felt the 'I' echoing behind the words through the bond as he'd held her tight.

The kiss had been different too. More intentional. Usually, they were quick and light. Affectionate at times. Maybe teasing. This time it had been a promise. Of what, she wasn't sure, but she realized she very much wanted to know.

Which brought her to the present question: what did her tests reveal? First and foremost: that she felt absolutely ridiculous for testing him at all. How could she have missed it all this time? How could she have known this man for long, and just now seen what it seemed everyone else had always known? Briar was wonderful. He was handsome, yes, but, more importantly, he was kind. He cared for people who couldn't care for themselves and gave freely of what he had to those who were in need. He was sometimes sneaky and occasionally sharp. He liked to flirt more than he should and was sometimes too free with his affections. But he was also honest and kept his promises. Any woman would be lucky to have him, and she very much wanted to be that woman. And somehow, beyond all expectation or hope, it appeared that he might want her as well.

The question, then became how to become that woman. Yazmin's original advice, seduce him and keep him for yourself, came back but she frowned at that. Briar had been seduced. He'd been fawned over and made much of and pandered to for the right to sleep in his bed. She didn't want to be _that_ woman, and if she was honest, she wasn't sure she could be. She had never fawned or seduced in her life, and she had no intention of starting now.

Tris just wanted...him. And for him to have her. For something honest and real and without all the silly trappings everyone else's relationships seemed to entail. Half of what went on in court looked more a performance for the benefit of the court itself. She didn't want any part of that.

Unfortunately, she wasn't certain how to go about achieving her goal. She couldn't discuss this with Sandry or Daja; she had a feeling at least one of them would disapprove, and she didn't want it getting back to Briar until she'd spoken to him herself. Oh, neither of them would likely mean to give it away, but neither were as good at hiding their feelings as they thought they were. Besides, Briar was particularly good at ferreting out secrets. She also couldn't ask her mother, though she felt like this might have actually been an area in which she would have gotten some good advice. How ironic that she couldn't request assistance from the woman so willing to give it in everything else? And while she could ask Lark and Rosethorn, a trip to Winding Circle without Briar would prompt comment and questions.

Yazmin, she decided after further thought. Maybe. At the very least, she could ask to see her about Dame Dominique's proposal. If that went well, and it seemed appropriate, she could decide whether or not to bring it up then.

Just the thought of discussing this particular tangle of emotions with _anyone_ , let alone Yazmin, was enough to make her skin turn pink verging on red. It was personal, in a way that nothing else ever had been before. She didn't think the dancer would refuse to help; in fact, she would probably want to know more than Tris wished to share. But despite her need, there was still a desire to keep this special secret to herself and share it with no one else. Obviously, that wasn't going to help anything.

You will talk to Yazmin, she told herself firmly as she pulled out a piece of paper and began to write. She has sense, already knows more than anyone else, and can keep secrets when it is needed. She'd be the perfect choice, even if you actually had other choices, to ask. If nothing else, if you are mistaken or it all goes wrong, she will never bring it up again. So you will have this conversation because you need the help.

Maybe.

-090-

Briar seemed to float rather than walk as he put away his tools, his body moving out of habit as his mind tried to make sense of the last hour or so. Muscles aching pleasantly from a day of exertion and his stomach rumbling ominously made concentrating difficult, and he noticed with a start that the heat was finally starting to abate. It wouldn't actually get cool, that was hoping for too much, but it no longer felt like he was moving through honey as it pressed down on him.

He was humming, he realized as he put the lid on the bin that held his tools and glanced around to make sure he had left nothing else out. It was a waltz, one he had danced with Tris, actually, on the night of the ball. He could almost feel her in his arms again, stepping in time together in a night that now seemed like a dream.

Thoughts turning to the hour before again, he felt himself smile all the wider. He had wanted...something. Something more. She hadn't flinched at his scars. The moon had only highlighted her beauty, and he liked the way the dress she wore looked on her. It wasn't fancy, but it was Tris.

She had needed help buttoning it up that morning, he mused as he put away some corked bottles left out on the table. Perhaps, she would need help unbuttoning it too. It would only be polite to offer, after she had asked this morning.

One of the bottles was unlabeled, and he hefted it curiously. An oil compound, yellowish in color. What was it for, and why was it out? Holding it up to the lamp he immediately shook his head at his own forgetfulness. It was a dye, for Sandry. A new formula she had asked him to try that had come by way of a friend. Sandry.

Oh Lakik's _teeth-_

"Am I _insane_?!" his whispered hoarsely to himself, the shock of remembrance nearly sending him to his knees. "Oh no, Sandry, I can absolutely control myself. Cancel a date for a simple lunch, then the next day have an impromptu cuddle on the swing in the dark! Idiot lech! I should have left as soon as she sat down, made some excuse..."

And he had kissed her. Not on the mouth, by Mila of the Grain, he'd had more sense than that, at least. But that hadn't been a sisterly kiss, and if Rod hadn't come out, he couldn't promise he wouldn't have pressed for more. Tris hadn't pulled away, hadn't seemed unwilling in the least, actually, and that worried him all the more. What if it was already too late? He had promised Sandry and promised himself and Tris, in a way. He couldn't hurt her like this, couldn't make promises he wasn't going to keep. Tris didn't play this game; she didn't know the rules, and he couldn't let her-

It's going to a late night of work for you, laddy buck, he told himself as he began pulling out some of his spare stock and tried to figure out what he could make. Anything that he could blame on a forgotten order that needed to be finished tonight would do. No going upstairs until Tris was sound asleep, and up early so there's no chance for anything in the morning either. You're to keep your distance, and you _will_ do it this time or Shurri Firesword take you and-

Briar didn't finish that thought. He could think of nothing worse he could do to himself than hurt Tris by his own carelessness.

He couldn't fail.

-090-

Author's Note:

You had a long, nicely organized and very thorough A.N. Then messed up and it was lost. I am tired, so it is now being replaced by this:

Not a great place to stop, but it is what it is. Thanks for the warm fuzzies by review, they are always appreciated. :)

Until next week!

~CB~


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Business talks may not have been why Valden had traveled to Emelan, but his trip was proving to be profitable beyond his wildest dreams. Being the father of a locally famous weather-witch was opening doors he had never considered. Contacts and potential allies and contracts practically crawled out of the woodworks. Most, of course, wanted something from him more than just working with his business. Befriending him brought them not only a tie to four powerful mages but also possibly the Duke himself. Everyone knew the old man was fond of his niece and her close friends, and that the Duke had invited the Chandlers to dine privately only a few days before. They were, in fact, becoming rather well-known for visiting merchants.

Even if Valden had woken up that very morning convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt, he could not have left Emelan quite yet. There was too much potential gain that could be lost by returning prematurely. By all reports, everything at home was progressing well. He received weekly letters using the mage-messenger system, and his family knew better than to lie to him. No need to rush off just yet, then.

Besides, he still wasn't convinced.

Oh, one could make a fairly substantial argument, if one wished to. There was the jealousy with Keth. But was it real? If Keth was as devoted to his teacher as he appeared, he could be pretending. He had lied to Valden once already, though the merchant had to admit he likely would have done the same in the young man's shoes. And if Keth was just pretending, perhaps, it was simply to give Briar a reason to pretend as well. There had been no competition for Tris' hand, in so far as Valden could discover. Indeed, before Briar, it seemed there was hardly a whisper for any suitors at all. His daughter was in the habit of keeping people at arm's length, as he well knew, so that wasn't that unusual. But the whole of it felt...off somehow. Even if it were all real, he would still have bet his last coin that something wasn't right.

Valden just wasn't sure.

Then there was the blushing. Something was making his daughter's face flare like a torch. Was it the genuine flushes of a new bride, or something contrived to convince casual watchers? He hadn't seen anything to solidly convince him that they were anything of substance. He had known more than one man and woman who could blush on command, and with skin as fair as hers, it wouldn't be difficult to accomplish: an embarrassing memory or even a light illusion. He wasn't sure if Tris' magic, or any of her siblings, could be bent in that direction, but he had seen such before. And he was willing to admit that he didn't know enough about magic to be sure what it could and could not do. He or Darra would be unable to tell if arcane workings were in play or if the reason for them was what they believed.

And finally, the solidity of everyone around them. That there wasn't one person crying 'they're too young!' or perhaps 'they didn't think this through!' He'd never been to a wedding where there wasn't at least one dissenter. And regardless of whether they were proven right or wrong in time, they usually made for some good entertainment. No one, it seemed, had even questioned if the pair was ready for such a big step despite the short courtship. That seemed not only suspicious but bordering on negligent in the merchant's mind. Valden could not believe that the four adults given charge of such extraordinary children would be anything but cautious in their raising. So much of it did not quite make sense.

Still, musing about it over his breakfast would not give him the answer. Silently, the merchant avowed once more to wait and hoped he would be proven wrong. He was coming to enjoy his daughter and respect his new son-in-law. It would be a shame to find that it had all been just a sham.

-090-

It was Briar's turn to mind the stall in the market, and for once, he was thankful for the excuse to do so. It gave him ample reason to be up earlier than usual and out the door before Tris had moved from their bed. Not that it had been a restful night. He'd spread himself on top of the covers away from her, meaning to cite the heat, if she asked why. She didn't, but he woke a short time later to find himself cuddled against her back with an arm around her middle. The slight breeze that constantly stirred the air was nearly enough to make him feel cold, and he silently called himself a fool for not thinking of it. Crawling under the blankets, he had moved himself to his own side, away from her, only to wake and find himself beside her a short while later. Despite repeated attempts, his body's insistence had continued through the night.

But why had the ex-thief been waking so often? Dreams. Not all of them were 'exciting', but they didn't have to be to have him wooing his wife in ways he'd promised not to. Feeding each other in the garden was just as tantalizing as a romp in the grass by moonlight. Sharing a book in their bed as fulfilling as sharing something else. Even just walking through the market with her arm in his for a reason other than show. Dancing. At a play. In the streets during a festival. Out in the pouring rain.

He needed space. He needed perspective. Tris wasn't a woman to be wooed and dallied with for a time before moving on like he always did. She deserved better, which meant she deserved better than him. He had to back off, now, while he was still in control. She couldn't possibly realize what she was doing, responding to him like that. She'd never been with anybody, right? So if she didn't know, no harm done. Just keep his hands and his heart to himself, and all would be well. He'd get over her (he always had before), and he'd help her find someone worthy of her. Someone she could introduce to her parents and take to visit her family on long trips.

Not Keth, though, he added to himself as he unloaded the cart and opened the stall for business. He's too old, and he doesn't love her like she deserves. She needs someone close to her own age. A mage would probably be best: someone who can relate to handling power. Academic would do, but ambient would probably be the best. Someone down to earth, who can make her smile. Someone who appreciates her cooking. Someone who would enjoys watching her dance in the rain. Someone-

"Excuse me," a man said as he walked up with a basket over one arm. "Do you have any of the sunburn balm?"

The question cut through his train of thought, and Briar answered in the affirmative as he unloaded the final basket. A small tub was exchanged for coins, and as they were tucked in his pouch, a second customer walked up. The steady stream that followed mercifully kept his hands and mind busy for hours.

-090-

Unlike the self-confident dancer, Tris never felt comfortable visiting people without making plans first. There were exceptions, of course, but this was not one of them. So she had sent a message requesting a meeting at a tea house she knew the dancer favored early that morning and received her reply just as she was finishing her breakfast. Yazmin would meet her that afternoon, two hours after the noon bell,

The dancer arrived first and greeted Tris with a wide smile and proffered a seat in a private corner of the establishment. Tris accepted, and their tea was served. Yazmin wasted no time.

"You said you had business to discuss," she asked, a hopeful note in her voice, as soon as the server was out of earshot.

"I have an idea, or a few really, for the item we discussed last time," Tris replied as she pulled a small pouch from the bag she carried and emptied it onto the table. Charms the size of her thumb cast in copper spilled forth into her hand, each polished to a high sheen in various fanciful shapes. Flowers, animals, a few holy symbols of Mila's grain or the Green Man's leaves. "There are more," she went on as she sorted them out onto the bag laid flat on the table. "Some larger, a few smaller. The smaller ones will not be as effective, they simply cannot hold as much." She was proud of her sister's work, the metal gleamed and showed the touch of a master smith.

Yazmin's eyes shone with delight. "They're beautiful!" she breathed as she gently picked one up to examine. "And they work?"

"Yes, though not as well as Sandry's," the mage replied confidently. "You can't take something the size of a rod, shrink it to a fraction of the size and expect it to be the same. But for the purposes we discussed, they should be enough. They would need 'rebalancing' with time but not often."

"And you could do that?" the dancer asked eagerly.

Tris nodded, sure of her own skill. "Easily. Do you think she is still interested?"

"Oh, yes!" her companion said, giving the charm back for the mage to tuck away. "She will likely want to test it herself."

"That is fine. I wouldn't want her to purchase something she isn't certain of." The redhead couldn't hide her smile as she tucked everything back in her bag and sat back to enjoy her tea. The charms would work, regardless of what test they were put to.

"Wonderful! She promised me something special, if I could convince you to meet with her and a deal was struck," Yazmin admitted with a conspiratorial grin as she picked up her own cup once more. "Please try the cakes. They aren't as good as your cookies, but they are quite delicious. Was there anything else...?"

The dancer let the question hang as she took a sweet for herself, raising one brow with a hopeful eagerness that bordered on glee. The weather witch did not immediately answer, and her companion's smile grew in anticipation.

It took awhile for the words to come, and when they did it they were said softly with lowered eyes. "I think you are right, about the other thing we discussed."

Yazmin wanted to leap to her feet and crow with delight. She had been right! But the young woman across from her would not appreciate the display in any case and seemed particularly tense at the moment. Instead, she settled for a calm, "You tested him?"

"Yes." The single word was hesitant, as though possibly admitting guilt.

"And...?" The blush that flooded Tris' face could have lit a building at night. Yazmin did let some of her glee spill forth this time, her smile nearly splitting her face in two. "Wonderful! Then you are...?"

"No, not yet," the weather mage said quickly, shrugging uncomfortably. "I'm not...I don't know what to do next. I never thought-" The rest of the sentence was cut off in a strangled gulp. Sighing, she went on cautiously, "I know how I feel, and I think I know how he feels. I just...what comes next?"

"A risk," Yazmin replied softly with the same wide smile. "A leap of faith, a gamble. A jump off a cliff into a raging sea below." The graceful woman paused, then added, "For someone who can't fly, of course."

"That's not comforting," Tris grumbled as she took a cake and began to distractedly dissect it with her fork.

The dancer's grin looked painful it was so wide. "It will be something you never forget."

"But how?" the younger woman growled, setting her fork aside. "Am I just supposed to...announce it? Or am I supposed to wait for him to say something first? In novels, it always seems like everything lines up so neatly for the couple in question."

Yazmin laughed and said wryly, "Yes, well, novels are usually wrong. In novels, you usually dance without cease or sweat and don't have to work a day for the one of those that is actually feasible. In novels, there is also a great deal of bad poetry that would be dreadfully boring to actually listen to and so many feasts we would all be as wide as we are tall, so let's be glad we do not live in a novel."

Tris did not laugh, hands knotting themselves in her skirt as she confessed, "I don't know if I can tell him."

Her companion did laugh, though not unkindly. "Pffft, nonsense!" she declared with a wave of her hand. "You, who have faced pirates and empresses and murderers...there is nothing you cannot do! What is the worst that can happen?"

"He can say no."

Yazmin held in her sigh of exasperation. "And why would he when you are what he wants?" she asked.

"Because all he would have to do is walk down the street to see a dozen better options!" Tris protested bitterly.

"Better how?"

The weather witch rolled her eyes, as though it should be obvious. "Prettier," she grumbled with a scowl. "Or nicer. Or more graceful. Not prone to losing days to a book. Not cursed with lightning."

"Opinions, all of them," her companion retorted dismissively. "He clearly disagrees, and none of that would guarantee that, if he found someone who was nicer or more graceful or not a bookworm or a weather witch, they would in anyway be a better woman for him than you."

The scowl deepened, and Tris said harshly, "He could have had his pick from half the women at any ball, including many of the married ones, if we're honest. What if he decides someday that he wants that again? To be free of a commitment so he can...dally wherever or with whomever he likes?"

The lack of an immediate answer was concerning, and Tris watched as Yazmin's wide grin faded to a small, thoughtful smile. When she began to speak, it was slowly and in a very low voice. "I think I will tell you a story. Perhaps afterwards, you will understand. One of the hardest things about being a famous performer are the assumptions people make about you. If you dance, then women will accuse you of flaunting your body, of seducing their husbands."

The ironic glance at Tris prompted a slight grin in return, and Yazmin wrinkled her nose as she waved her hands dismissively. "I don't want their husbands: I want to dance, but they accuse all the same. And because you are a performer, because you wear things that reveal more than is decent because your company manager says if you do not he will replace you with someone who will, it is assumed you are easy. That you must crawl from bed to bed of men high and low. That you are happy to take your pleasures where you can find them."

The sniff that followed was expressive enough that Tris's grin grew a little more, and her companion went on haughtily, "That is not true, but it also is still said. It makes finding someone to share your heart with difficult because the ones who wish for your attention generally have something very specific in mind that has little to do with your heart. There were some that I found over my years of travel. None lasted, and usually, it was because of jealousy. Even if they did not want my fame, they could not stand others desiring me as well. It created a wedge that always pried us apart in the end." Yazmin frowned with that last statement, as though remembering something then shrugged as she moved on.

"When I came to Summersea, to build my school and start again," she said more brightly, "I thought that, perhaps, if I gained the Duke's attention, I would flirt a little. Smile and laugh and maybe gain a patron for my students. His wife was dead, and so there would be no jealous woman to interfere. I saw him at many of my performances here; he seemed to enjoy them and so my hopes did not seem like such a large thing.

"Then Pasco happened to Sandry—or the other way around—and as a result, we were introduced. I flirted. I smiled. I hoped for my patronage. I made witty conversation and danced when requested. And then quite unexpectedly, I found myself in love."

Tris could not have said what was different about the smile from the ones before as her companion lost herself for a moment, her mind clearly somewhere else. It was not, as she might have suspected, lascivious or lewd. There was a softness to it and a joy. A peace and a surety. She wondered if she had that smile when she thought of Briar.

"It was largely in part to the way he treated Sandry," Yazmin said as though from far away. "She was respected and esteemed for her gifts at fourteen years of age. Do you know how rare that is?" The dancer met Tris' eyes and immediately chuckled. "You likely do," she admitted, unabashed. "And I realized: a man who esteems his niece at such an age, how much more would he esteem the one he loves? It was incredibly disconcerting, to find myself attempting to pursue him, when I originally set out to entice him to pursue me! I thought no more of his patronage, of his money. He could keep it; it would not give me what I wanted most. Indeed, it would have been bitter ashes in my mouth had I succeeded in my initial bid and lost his affections instead. And it was ever so satisfying when I discovered he was every inch the man I had hoped he would be." Her smile did turn lascivious then, and she leaned forward as she added conspiratorially, "And I do mean every inch."

Tris blinked, then blushed hotly and closed her eyes. There were simply things she did not want to know about the Duke, and this definitely qualified as one of them. Yazmin laughed, and Tris hid behind her teacup with a long, slow drink.

"But," Yazmin said as her smile softened, "As wonderful as he is in bed, that is not what I treasure the most about him. He is good and kind. He is a man of integrity and honor. He makes me laugh, and he makes me better than I would be without him. And I make him better than he would be without me. We sharpen each other, as steel on steel. We strengthen each other, as two walls that meet and bear the same load. We share our best and our worst and know we are loved, regardless. That is what is worth the risk. You cannot have a deep and meaningful bond without being vulnerable and being vulnerable is always a risk."

"That seems very like what I already have with him," Tris said quietly as she rested her chin in her hand, eyes thoughtful as she met the gaze of her companion. "We share...well, more than we do with anyone else. Maybe...maybe that's enough."

"Is it?" Yazmin lifted one brow elegantly, and Tris sighed. "Because if you do not take him, Tris, someone else will. Briar is too good a man to leave lying around; he'll be picked up soon or late. And given his past history, I would guess soon. Are you at peace with that? Even with him simply dallying with others and then coming home to you?"

"No," the weather witch admitted wistfully. "That's not what I want." Her face began to to turn pink as she added, "Although, I'm not sure...I mean, I've never..." The pink began to shade towards red as she fumbled for words that wouldn't come.

Yazmin's grin turned wicked as she said sweetly, "I'm sure Briar will be more than willing to show you where things go." Tris' embarrassment turned to annoyance as she glared halfheartedly at the older woman. "I was teasing," the dancer chuckled, winking.

"I know _how_ it works," Tris said as she sat back with a huff. "I'm just not certain that I'm ready to...jump right into it."

The dancer shrugged. Waiting made little sense to her, but she would not judge others by her own experiences. "Then what are you concerned about?" she asked curiously.

"Every woman Briar's been with these last few years, that I know of, has been in his bed within a week after he'd settled on them," Tris explained dryly. "I mean, there were a few exceptions, but there were also times he was visiting or being visited by multiple women in the same week. What if he expects that from me? I..." Reluctantly, the weather witch went on in a lower voice, "I felt him, through the bond. His...reaction to me, at times. It was a little, mm, intimidating. I don't know that I'm ready to handle that just yet."

"I sometimes think your bond is a two-edged blade," Yazmin said ruefully. "It tells you so much...sometimes too much, I think. I am surprised, actually, that you have managed to hide the strength of your feelings from him for this long with your bond."

"I'm the best at shields," Tris admitted with a wry grin. "And he is probably one of the worst. It isn't a fair fight in that area. Besides, much of my training involved control, more so than the rest. It's a lesson I might have learned a little too well."

Yazmin's understanding of magic was enough to know how very little she actually understood. Which was to say, she had little to actually contribute in that area. Shrugging, she replied, "Well, to attempt to answer your original question, let me ask you this: how does Briar treat Rosethorn and Evvy? Does he respect them or disrespect them? Does he care for them, or does he leave them to care for themselves?"

"He respects them and cares for them," she answered immediately, offended on his behalf. "He's always taken care of the people he cares for, even when it wasn't convenient or easy. He's a good man."

"Then why would he not do the same for you in this one area?" the older woman said gently. "If you trust him with your life and your heart, why can you not trust him with your body as well?"

It was not often that Tris felt she had played the fool. She did not enjoy the experience. "It seems a silly question to ask when you put it like that," she admitted grudgingly.

Yazmin just smiled, eyes twinkling merrily. "Mm, most questions of the heart seem silly from another perspective."

"Then I suppose I just have one more question," the weather witch said as she took a deep breath. "How do I tell him?"

The dancer was surprisingly unhelpful as she chuckled self deprecatingly. "I don't know. You will figure something out."

"I'm serious," Tris said, unease growing in her belly.

"So am I," the dancer replied with an almost mocking smile.

"How did you tell the Duke?" the weather witch asked, frustrated enough to pry into something that was clearly not her business. "Surely that will tell me something."

"Yes," the dancer agreed dryly. "It will tell you how _not_ to do it! I blurted it out at the most inconvenient time possible. It was probably one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. We were getting ready to walk into a dinner he had asked me to accompany him to with an important ambassador, and I said it just before the guests walked in. He did not even have time to respond before they were announced, and I had to sit through the dinner and make pleasant conversation for two hours before I found out if he felt the same way or not."

"What in Mila's name possessed you to tell him then?" Tris asked, clearly shocked. It had never occurred to her that Yazmin, _the Yazmin_ , may have played the fool herself in love.

The dancer's snort was most unladylike, but she grinned as she explained, "I had been 'dancing' around it for weeks, so to speak, and I had decided that tonight was the night. I was going to say it and be done and not have it weighing on me anymore, for good or ill. The guests were taking forever to arrive, and it was just us alone in a side chamber. I thought, well, at least we're alone. There was no promise I would have so good a chance later in the evening. So I spoke my heart. And literally, the moment the words left my mouth the door opened and the visiting dignitaries walked in. The ambassador's wife must have thought me a dolt, I am sure I did not put more than two words together the whole night!"

"What did he say later?" the young woman said, barely able to contain her incredulity.

"That his heart sang with joy the whole time in the knowledge that I loved him, and yet was torn in two that he had not been able to tell me the same." The dry smile turned warm as she added, "He is quite poetic when he has a mind to be."

Tris was not able to appreciate the sentiment as she went back to, "I still can't believe...and you just blurted it out?"

"Yes," Yazmin admitted, voice turning dry again. "I think we all feel like idiots when we speak our hearts. We are so certain we are not worthy of our intended's affection. That they could find better than us and are probably doing so right now. I look at Verdis and think why would he choose me? I have no title, no lands, no wealth. My name brings no important connections to his politics. I am not worthy of his attention. And he looks at me and goes: why does she choose me? I am serious and not a very good dancer and am not nearly as handsome as she is pretty. She has been chased by better men for decades. I am not worthy of her attention. But still I choose him, and he chooses me." She shrugged eloquently, rolling her eyes as she added, "If there is one thing love is not, it is not logical."

Tris let a soft chuckle escape before she suppressed it, and she offered shyly, "I think you make him very happy, Yazmin."

"I do," the danger agreed with a beaming smile. "And he makes me very happy. Just like you make Briar very happy. So go tell him, and be happy together. Only have better timing than me in telling him."

"I was really counting on your help in that area," Tris said with a weak laugh.

Yazmin waved her hand dismissively. "I did help," she insisted pertly. "I told you how not to tell him. If that is settled, I believe we should go on to Dame Dominique's. I sent her a message nearly an hour ago, and she is likely waiting for us at her shop."

Tris doubted ambassadors from another country interrupting her conversation with Briar, whenever or wherever it happened, would be a problem. Still, she allowed the conversation to move on. "Are we late?" she asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"No, but I want to be sure I get my due for this working out," her companion replied eagerly. "That is one thing about Dominique. She is a dear, and honest to a fault, but her memory is terrible so get everything in writing, or she may not remember what she has agreed to. It should not be a problem for you; she has a new girl who keeps tracks of all official business for her and is very good from what I have seen."

Yazmin settled the bill despite Tris' protests, and soon, the dancer had them both strolling to the shop arm in arm. The weather witch wasn't sure how it had happened and nearly drew her arm back. It was rare for her to display that much physical affection for anyone in public. But the older woman gave her a glance and made a motion with one hand like swirling air and she immediately understood. She called her winds to her, to twine about them both, and her companion immediately sighed in relief.

"You are a very useful friend to have," she told the weather witch with a warm smile, and Tris felt her own mouth curve slightly in return. Well, she supposed it was a fair exchange. She had asked Yazmin for advice and could provide this small service in return.

At the shop, the pair was immediately escorted to a second floor sitting room and plied with a pot of tea and a tray of small dainties, despite their insistence that it was not needed. Dame Dominique was with a customer but would come the moment she was done. In the meantime, if this was the friend Mistress Yazmin had spoken of, would they mind speaking to Dame Dominique's inhouse mage? She would be doing the testing on the items in question.

Tris did not mind, and the mage was summarily fetched. She recognized the middle-aged woman from the Mage Council gatherings in the winter but did not know her by name. Academic by training, their paths had never crossed before. The woman examined the charms when presented with them and soon had the weather mage hip-deep in a discussion that Yazmin listened to politely while only understanding perhaps three words in ten. When they got into 'balancing the ghost of the lightning that causes the unfortunate discharges' she stopped listening completely. From what she did understand, though, it appeared the house mage, Miss Amelia Firetouch, was impressed with Tris' work and would begin testing immediately.

As testing new magical devices was standard, the paperwork for it was ready for Tris to sign. In the event the items were destroyed, the mage who was doing the testing would be responsible for half the cost of the item. Tris, for her part, would be held responsible if the item was found dangerous in any way. The charms handed over were carefully counted and labeled, then the mage went off to happily play with her new toys.

Dame Dominique swept in just as Miss Firetouch left, a plump woman only a little taller than Tris and lovely in a motherly way that seemed at odds with her business. She was followed by a much smaller woman in grey robes that the weather witch assumed was her assistant. The owner greeted Yazmin as an old friend, then turned to Tris with an air of surprise.

"I know you," she said in frank surprise. "And I am rather upset with my friend now, for she would not give me even a hint of who she was bringing today. It is an honor, to have one of Lady fa Toren's companions visit my humble shop and agree to do business with me."

"You will allow me to do the formal introductions," Yazmin said, beaming at her friend despite the look of consternation directed her way. "Tris, this is Dame Dominique, my very good friend, even if I do like to tease her too much. Dominique, this Mistress Moss, an accredited mage who I believe will neatly solve your problem at a reasonable price."

Tris watched in amusement as the shopkeeper fussed at her friend, and Yazmin laughed and teased back all the more. She was drawn into it when the Dame recalled her name from an order and underwent a thorough cross-examination of her thoughts on the items made for her. She answered, familiar with the terms used by those in the profession from her years with Sandry.

Eventually, Yazmin reminded her friend about the contract, and Dominique immediately got down to business. Tris was applied to for how much she wished to charge for her charms, and the weather witch replied by pulling out a sheet that detailed each item and her price. The lovely owner studied the paper for a time, then put it down with a slight frown.

"Do you believe my prices are too high?" Tris asked, a sinking feeling in her gut. She thought she had calculated her margins correctly.

"No," the seamstress replied frankly, "I believe they are entirely fair, which I am not used to in a mage. Usually, your kind expect me to pay what I will charge my customers for their work and leave no profit for myself. Then when I point that out, try to look down your nose at me as though I were beneath you somehow. Amelia is different, which is why she works for me, and Lady fa Toren was quite pleasant as well, but you three are truly the exception to the general rule."

"There are two more of us," Tris replied with a slight smile, unable to hide the pride in her voice. "My smith mage sister, who cast those charms, and our...my husband, who is a green mage. Either will do fair business with anyone who is honest, should the need arise."

"I should have known," Dame Dominique said with a rueful smile. "The stories do say there are four of you. Well, I believe we have a bargain, Mistress Moss."

Mary, the assistant, produced the papers and began to fill out the required sections. Prices were put on the paper, up until they reached the part about payment. Dame Dominique was thrilled when Tris mildly asked if it would be possible for her to receive part of her payment in goods instead. Goods from the shop, specifically, should she decide to order anything else. The owner was quick to agree, and Tris decided that she sincerely hoped her charms did as well as everyone believed they would. Besides the extra profit that would help fuel other projects, getting her undergarments from Dame Dominique would mean she would not need to ask Sandry for her help in the future. The fact that Briar enjoyed them as well was merely a potential bonus.

Paperwork signed and sealed, Tris left the meeting satisfied in a bargain well-made. It would take time for the testing to be complete, but if everything went as planned, she could expect her first payment before the end of this moon, start of next at the latest.

Daja was in her forge when her sister returned and welcomed the news that her work had been well-received. Discovering that Tris had gotten the price they had agreed upon was even better, and the weather-witch was positively sparking as she made her way to her own workroom. It was a fabulous day thus far. Briar was at the market running their stall, so it was unlikely that she would get to see much of him. Which of course made the opportunity for a conversation with him rather unlikely. But she would speak with him and tell him how she felt, one way or another.

-090-

Briar had purposefully kept the stall open later than usual and planned to blame it on booming business if asked why. It wasn't untrue, either. They'd done a brisk trade in sun creams and burn lotions, and he's sold out of his stock of 'heat tea'. It was meant to be drunk cool, at the end of the day, to help the body replenish what it had sweated out while working.

He'd also been surprised at the number of people who had come by asking about Chime's perfect glass spirals. Apparently, not seeing them in stock made people want then more, and Briar made a note to have Tris prepare more for the stall.

There had also been a lot of interest in some of Daja's work, and he had three potential clients who wished to meet with her. The girls would understand, he'd reasoned as he maneuvered the cart through the darkening streets. You didn't close up when things were still selling, and he'd still had people asking to see wares as he'd been packing up the baskets.

At the house, Briar unhitched the cart and saw to the animal himself, Rod having already left for the day. Inside, a plate was warming for him in the stove, and he tucked into it gratefully as he poured some juice left to cool in the icebox. It was full dark by the time he was done and went upstairs. Tris was already in bed, reading from a book and making notes with a charcoal stick on a bundle of papers.

"Still working?" he asked as his feet brought him to her side of the bed before he realized what he was doing. His gut instinct, to kiss her on the cheek, he moderated by kissing her on top of the head instead. A spark leapt to his lips, and he jumped with a strangled yelp.

Tris tsked softly and murmured, "I've warned you not to do that."

"I know," he said as he rubbed at his numb lip carefully.

"Busy day?"

"Very. We sold a lot. You'll need to make more glass charms; apparently, when they aren't there, people are afraid we won't have anymore."

"Hm." Briar recognized that tone. She was being polite but not really listening as she continued to focus on her work. It wasn't personal, but he felt put out nonetheless as he gathered his clothes for sleeping. Of course, he had no reason to feel that way. He wanted her to ignore him, to put distance between them. It was a good thing, of course.

He went straight into the bathroom to change without another word. Upon coming out, he found his wife almost finished putting her notes away in preparation for sleep. Briar decided he must look exhausted, for she gave him only a glance before laying right down to sleep. And truth be told he was tired. The market was hot, and he had spent most of the day on his feet. Laying in their bed, a breeze keeping the heat at bay, quickly left him yawning.

It was working, he decided muzzily as he rolled over and threw an arm about Tris' waist. She had ignored him, even after not seeing him all day, and he, of course, hadn't noticed her absence in the least. Which made cuddling with her now safe, as it was only out of habit really. Satisfied, he went to sleep.

-090-

Tris lay awake, listening to Briar breath beside her as he pulled her more tightly against him in his sleep. She had waited for him to come home, sat up working to keep herself awake. And then, when he had finally come, she had found she could not say the words. They had knotted up in her throat, and she had barely been able to speak even when he had shocked himself with her braids. Still, he had been worn out, and perhaps, she should not berate herself quite so much for even failing to really talk to him. He needed his rest, and there would be tomorrow. And he had immediately pulled her to him when he had laid down to sleep. That had to mean something, right?

Less satisfied, but still hopeful, Tris also went to sleep.

-090-

The next day was busy. Briar had a great deal of stock to replace for their market stall, and Tris did too. Heat teas and sun balms were in high demand, and he quickly pulled out everything needed to assess how much he had left. He would need to gather more from his garden as well and see to the weeding he had missed the day before. Tris was in her workroom early, sorting through Chime's flames and spirals for those that looked the best before setting up her miniature kit in her workroom to put a loop on those that passed muster.

Lunch came and went while all three remained in their workrooms to eat. It was early afternoon when Briar cleaned up from working outside and finished checking on all his in progress projects on his table. Most would need time now, and he could do nothing more until that was past. An idea had occurred to him while working on the sun balm, a potential variation on the recipe Rosethorn had always used, if his memory of a certain formula was right. Tris had the book he needed upstairs, and so upstairs he went.

It wasn't in the library, of course. That would have been too easy. But it had been all day since he had seen his wife and asking for a book to further his work seemed safe enough. If he was right, the work could keep him busy after dinner as well. A perfect excuse for a short visit, then.

The workroom door was open, a clear sign it was safe to enter, and Briar stopped just outside the doorway.

Tris was bent over her worktable, peering through a magnifying lens the size of her palm as she carefully heated the tip of a glass flame for bending into the desired loop. It was a trick she had mastered, concentrating heat into a small area for such fine work. For larger projects, it was not worth it, but it was a good deal easier than heating up the large furnace in the forge. Briar couldn't help it: he stopped and admired the view.

If it had been a pose, it likely wouldn't have been nearly as tantalizing. It was the fact that she was completely relaxed, without pretense or purposeful allure that he couldn't stop looking. It was even a bit innocent, one foot propped against the other, elbows resting comfortably on the workbench, dress pulled tight _just so_...

Tris noticed a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye and spared him a glance before going back to her work.

"Briar?" she asked, staying where she was as she started to tease the tip up and around with a pair of steel tweezers.

"I didn't want to interrupt," he said by way of explanation, adding to himself or spoil the view. The fact that she hadn't moved was perfectly alright with him.

"What do you need?" she said absently, completing the loop and immediately placing the flame on a special stand for it to cool before picking up another. The trick of concentrating the heat was simple but costly, if used for too long. She did not have time to waste.

"Are you sure I'm not interrupting?" Briar said quickly. "I could...come back later."

The snort she gave was quiet, but she went on, "My hands and eyes are busy, not my ears. What is it?"

His smile grew, for some reason tartness just made the picture all that more appealing. "I wanted to borrow the book on compound ratios for various mixtures with properties of healing by Songwaters," he explained as he leaned against the door frame. "It's for an idea with the sun balm."

"It's over there." She motioned to a shelf behind her with one hand, and he ambled over to it while glancing at her over his shoulder. He found the book quickly and placed it under his arm before walking back to the door and pausing.

"Was there anything else?" Tris asked when she realized he hadn't left yet.

"Um..." The young man swallowed before answering simply, "Your...dress looks very nice today."

"Does it?" The weather witch answered without thinking, all her concentration on the tail of the flame as the loop tried to twist over to far.

Somehow, Briar didn't mind her lack of attention this time. "Yes, it does," he said more to himself, smiling indulgently before clearing his throat and adding in a louder voice, "Thanks for the book."

She waved a hand in reply, with a quick, "Take care of it." His wife was fully absorbed back in her work before he could reply.

Still, he added a laughing, "I will," before turning to trot down the hallway. He was at the top of the stairs before he realized what he had been doing and felt his stomach drop to his feet. Somehow, his rationalization that there was no law against looking only made it worse. He had to control himself, keep himself apart-

 _Briar?_

The voice through their bond made him jump, and it took a moment before he realized it was Daja. _Here_ , he answered shortly, taking a deep breath to slow his hammering heartbeat.

 _I-...is something wrong?_ Briar could feel Daja's worry, and he quickly pushed his guilt and worry to the side.

 _It's nothing. I just-...don't worry about it. What do you need?_

He could feel the moment of hesitation, before his sister replied simply. _I need an extra hand in the forge, and Rod is out getting packages from the post._

 _Turning?_ Forge work wasn't hard, but it did require focus. If he helped, he wouldn't be able to think about...anything else.

 _Yes._

 _On my way._

-090-

Briar usually didn't mind helping in the forge when Daja needed an extra pair of hands. Briar also usually didn't get lost in his thoughts every five minutes. They weren't even particularly pleasant thoughts, mostly inwardly berating himself for his slips so far. Sandry would skin him and salt the hide if she ever found out, so he had best be sure she didn't. Still, his focus was not where it should be, and it showed.

Daja finally swore at him as she missed her third stroke in a row from the metal being improperly planted in place. She tossed her hammer aside in an uncharacteristic display of temper and grabbed the bar clamped in its tongs from him roughly, shoving it back in the fires to reheat.

"What is the matter with you?" she demanded, trying not to lose her temper even more as she rubbed a hand over her grimy face. "I have never seen you this fumble-fingered."

Briar couldn't meet her eyes as he felt his face redden. Scrambling, he mumbled, "I'm just...I suppose the stress is getting to me a little."

"You aren't fighting with Tris again, are you?" the smith-mage growled, picking up her hammer and examining it for knicks.

"No," the young man said quickly, taking a step back as he wiped sweat from his face. With a strained laughed, he added, "We're...we're fine."

"Are you sure?" Daja asked doubtfully.

"I am." The words were falsely bright, but she shrugged and let it go. If he didn't want to talk, he didn't want to talk, and her anger always cooled quickly.

"Then go back to whatever else you were doing," she told him with a sigh. "It's going to take forever, but I'll manage on my own. Next time, I might end up hitting you instead." Briar wasn't sure that she was joking, and she may not have been either.

Still, the young man forced a laugh as he turned towards the door and said, "Right, I'm sorry about..."

"I know," she cut in with a wave, already focused back on her work. "It's fine."

He went back to his workroom.

-090-

Daja was not stupid, blind, deaf, or dumb, and neither were the servants. It had been necessary from the beginning to tell them the truth, and the siblings were lucky the staff they employed were so loyal. They knew they had good positions and worked to ensure their master and mistresses would continue to pay those positions for a long time.

So when the housekeeper had come to ask Daja if the mage were sure the marriage was just a sham, it had been a conscious decision to stay out of it. She had explained to the kindly matron that while Briar and Tris had originally married to save her from her parents, whatever arrangement they had come to since then was their business, not hers. The housekeeper had agreed after a moment's thought and added only that she hoped Master Briar was being respectful with Mistress Tris. Only, he was known for being so flighty with women.

Daja had pointed out that, of anyone, Tris knew him and his ways best, and if he was taking liberties, it was with her full knowledge and consent. And had the smith mage thought otherwise, she would never have supported the marriage in the first place. That had been the end of that.

It wasn't that Daja didn't have an opinion because she did. And it wasn't that she didn't care about what happened because she did. But she also knew that, once upon a time, her foster siblings have left her to explore a romance they knew could end poorly and let her make that decision for herself. They had been there for her afterwards, when she had needed their support, but had never interfered with her choice. How could she allow them any less?

So she watched and waited and hoped there wouldn't be too many broken pieces of furniture to pick up at the end. Or too many broken hearts to mend. It could work out, she mused as she checked her iron and found it ready. She just wasn't sure her nerves wanted to live with them long enough to find out.

-090-

Briar did not have a productive afternoon. Even in his workroom, his mind was restless, either remembering Tris upstairs or his guilt afterwards. And one surely would lead back to the other, an endless cycle of misery that left him wrung out and hopelessly strained when dinner finally came. Gratefully, he had cleaned up and went to sit at the table to eat.

The young man did not realize he was unusually quiet as he filled his aching stomach with good food, but his companions respected his silence. Daja threw Tris a questioning look, but the weather witch just shrugged back before beginning a discussion on the business potential of their recent contract with Dame Dominique. The plant mage ignored them and ended up even hurrying through his dessert before declaring his intention to bathe.

Daja waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Tris questioningly. "You're sure something isn't wrong between you two?" she asked, obviously doubtful.

"It's nothing I did or said," Tris replied shortly, annoyed by her sister's persistence. "Not that I know of, anyways. He was fine when he came to borrow a book earlier." Something about the encounter niggled at the back of her mind, but she dismissed it after a moment as nothing more than her imagination.

"Something was bothering him when I asked him to come help," the smith mage offered as she studied her half-eaten cream cake. "I actually told him to leave the forge after half a bell. He was worse than useless and refused to say what was bothering him."

"I can't imagine what's bothering him," Tris said, concern creeping into her voice as she set her tea aside. "Not in such a short space of time."

"Well, you are the one he's married to, so I'll leave it in your capable hands to sort it out," Daja said as she rose to her feet and stretched. "I have plans for the evening: don't wait up."

"Going to see a certain dancer?" Tris asked, her grin a touch teasing.

"Yes," Daja replied, her teeth flashing white in her broad smile. "And I was going to ask you both, but you can ask Briar for me. Would you mind if I invited her to dinner? I want her to meet you, and Sandry too."

"Not at all," Tris said with a warm smile. "And I'm sure Briar won't either, just let me know when so I can plan something with the cook."

"We don't have to have a special meal," her sister protested quickly.

"Of course we do," the weather witch insisted as she waved one hand dismissively. "She's important to you, and that makes her important to us."

Daja's thanks were short, but Tris was still smiling as she made her way upstairs and left the maid to clean up dinner. She took out her notes again upstairs, settling on the balcony to wait for Briar and work while she waited.

The sun was well and truly set by the time he appeared, hair lying in damp curls against his scalp and dressed in the comfortably worn shirt and short pants he generally slept in. He settled in the chair next to her, propping his feet on the railing to rock himself gently.

"You don't have to stop," he said when she began packing away her things, closing his eyes as he leaned into the comfortable seat.

"I was waiting for you," she replied, setting everything aside and weighting the loose papers down with a stoppered ink bottle. "I thought you might like to talk."

"Talk about what?" he asked, overly casual as he kept his eyes closed. His arms crossed reflexively over his chest, though, and his legs stopped rocking his seat.

"Whatever is bothering you," she replied, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Tris supposed it was a compliment that he took so little care to disguise his emotions around her. He could keep his face as blank as a mask when he chose, but the unease and tension in his body was plain to see as she waited for him to respond. "You haven't been yourself since earlier," she added when he said nothing.

"It's...it's nothing," he finally said, opening his eyes to glance at her warily. "I mean, there is something, but you don't need to worry about it." This time Tris was the one to stay silent, watching him as he looked away and started rocking again, arms still crossed over his chest.

To be honest, his wife felt like she was searching through a haystack with no idea what she was searching for. She had one possibility, but it seemed strange that it should crop up today of all days. Especially after the note she had received that morning. Still, as the quiet went on, she decided it was worth one more attempt.

"Is it Keth?"

The creak of his chair went silent as Briar froze in his seat. Slowly, he turned towards her with look she could not name in the half-light of a quarter moon. "Why," he asked in a too quiet voice, "would you think I have a problem with Keth?"

"You don't always act yourself around him," she replied honestly, watching him openly as she stilled the nervous flutter in her stomach. "You're...not hostile but not exactly welcoming either." He muttered something too low to be heard, and she added, "I don't like feeling like I'm stuck between you two. He's my student, Briar, and my friend. The one I couldn't cast aside if I wanted to, and the other I refuse to."

"I'm not asking you to," he replied grumpily, frowning at the moon. "I just...I was there first, alright? We taught each other things first."

"He never took your place, Briar," she told him, surprise coloring her voice. "Even as friends, it was different than us. I thought you understood that."

"Yeah, well..." The ex-thief shrugged, crossing his arms a bit tighter across his chest. "You like glass making, so I wasn't sure. I could never teach you something like that." The excuse sounded weak even to him, but it was what he was willing to admit to.

"Glass making is beautiful and useful," she conceded, one corner of her mouth lifting in a smile. "But it's not enough to replace our years at Discipline. I'm not sure anything would be."

"I haven't...I was never rude," Briar said defensively as he slowly let his arms fall to his sides. "But I was acting...oddly, wasn't I?"

"Sometimes, yes," she replied with wry amusement. "I would still like it, if you would make things right before they go."

"I can do that," he breathed, scrubbing a hand through his drying hair. "That shouldn't be long now. They weren't staying long."

"Tomorrow, actually," she said as she pulled a note out of her pocket and handed it to him. "Their ship is leaving a few days early, and Keth has decided to take passage anyways. We are invited to dinner with them and my parents before they leave on the evening tides. Will you come?"

"Of course." He sat up straighter, looking more relaxed as he began rocking himself once more. He opened the note and read it by the light of the glowstone retrieved from his pocket. He always carried one around. "It would look odd if I didn't. Besides, I said I would make it right, so I will."

"Thank you." There was more, the words hovering on the tip of her tongue, but she hesitated and lost her nerve when he rose abruptly to his feet.

"I'm exhausted," he declared, stretching before turning to go inside. "It's to bed for me. Unless, there's something else you needed."

"No," she said quickly, picking up her notes and rising as well. "I am going to read for a bit. Will the light bother you?"

"Not if you agree to scratch my head," he replied, his steps becoming eager.

She did, and soon they were settled together in their bed.

Briar's last thought as he dozed off in the bliss of fingers running through his hair: if he had used up his luck for a year in a single conversation. Keth, she had thought his odd mood was about her student. It was working; he just had to keep to his path and all would be well.

It would be.

-090-

Author's Notes:

Well. I will be curious to see what you all think of that.

For those who reviewed, thanks as always! And remember, I reply to individual reviews if you sign in, so if you want a response don't forget to do so!

I can't think of anything else to let you know this week, except a reminder to PLEASE review. Because it makes me happy and happy authors are authors who write more.

Until next time~

~CB~


	18. Chapter 17

Chapter 17

As the boat was scheduled to leave on the evening tide, everyone met for an early dinner near the docks to send Keth and Thomas off in style. Briar was surprised when he realized Daja and Sandry were coming along as well, until he remembered they had planned to have dinner together that night, before the ship's schedule had changed. Everyone met at an inn called the Broken Anchor that boasted a particularly good fish stew and local stout ale.

The meal was surprisingly relaxed, despite the last minute introductions. Tris had accepted her mother's greeting kiss, and Briar had traded respectful nods with Valden. Sandry and Daja were made welcome at the table, and a private room was secured for them to eat. They arranged themselves around the table without incident, though Daja was careful not to sit next to Valden. The man may not be as terrible as she had thought, but he was a merchant and she a Trader. Some things should simply not be tested.

"I am sorry I did not get to meet you sooner," Sandry told Thomas as she settled in next to him beside her smith mage sibling. "I am afraid my duties at the Citadel keep me very busy these days."

"So you are actually the Duke's niece?" the boy squeaked, flushing bright red as she hid a smile behind her hand. "Ah, I mean, should I have bowed? Do I need to call you my lady?"

"You'll call her Sandry," Daja said kindly as the young noblewoman tried to swallow her laughter. "Like the rest of us. And you should ask her for stories about Tris when we were kids together at Discipline. She always remembers the good details."

Tris, who had heard her name while listening to her mother cross-examine Keth about their ship's route, turned curiously towards them. Chime, who was twined about her shoulders for once and not begging for Thomas' attention, leaned with her. "Did I hear my name?"

"They said they're gonna tell me stories about you!" Thomas announced with a broad grin. "So I can tell everyone else!"

 _What stories?_ The question over the bond was strong enough that Briar looked up from where he and Valden were debating the merits of the beef versus the fish.

"We'll save the most embarrassing ones for his next visit," Daja promised with a wink.

Tris rolled her eyes and glanced at Briar who gave her a 'what can you do' shrug. "That isn't comforting in the least."

"You should start with Shriek," she heard Daja say as she turned back to her mother and Keth. "That's a good one."

"Only if you wish to," Darra said as Keth wrote something down on a scrap of paper from his pocket. "It's just a cousin, but he was always fond of Thomas, and I'm sure he would put you up admirably until the next caravan came through that could take you on. Traveling overland is dangerous without numbers to keep you safe."

"If only we could take a caravan," Valden muttered low enough that only Briar heard as he hid a sigh. "I hate ships."

"It would add weeks to your journey," Briar observed mildly. "Maybe moons, if weather is poor."

"Which is why we will return by ship when it is time to go," the merchant replied gloomily. "What about you, Briar? By land or by sea?"

"By land," the plant mage admitted with a grin. "But I wouldn't mind a ship with Tris. She'd probably keep us at top speed from start to finish, so at least, it would be a quick trip."

"Captain would probably take you for free with that sort of help," Valden mused, rubbing his chin. "You shall have to see when you come visit us."

Briar blinked, glancing at his wife as he said carefully, "Do we have a trip planned I don't know about?"

"Oh, no," the older man said absently. "I mean whenever it is that you come visit. I do hope you will. There is a great deal of the family that would like to meet you both, I'm sure, once we return home with the news."

"I think a trip to Ninver is a splendid idea," the ex-thief said smoothly, "though I confess I'm not sure how soon we could come. We are both very busy, and Tris is close to a breakthrough on some of her more potentially lucrative projects. It may be some years before we could manage a trip of that length."

Valden 'hmmed' noncommittally and changed the subject to Briar's work in gardens. The young man could not help feeling he had been weighed and measured somehow and come up wanting.

"Tris," Thomas called, bringing his sister's attention away from Darra's description of their ship from Ninver to Emelan. "Tris, did you really raise a bird from a nestling?"

"I did," she replied, looking surprised. "Why?"

"Why isn't he your pet then?" the young man asked in puzzlement. "I mean, you raised him; shouldn't that make him your pet?"

"No," his sister replied, holding her chuckle inside and biting her lip to hide her smile. "Starlings are wild birds, Thomas; they won't become tame, not like pigeons or chickens. As soon as he could fly, he was gone and out of our home."

"Well, that's sad," he rejoined, frowning slightly. "To put all that work into him and have him run off like that. Seems ungrateful."

"That's an excellent word to describe the little terror," Briar put in with a grin. "Also loud. I don't think anyone slept in the entire time he was in the house with us. You couldn't sleep for it screaming for food!"

"You liked feeding him," she said, elbowing him gently in the side. "Especially once he started on bugs and worms."

"Well, yeah," he laughed, rubbing the spot as though it actually hurt. "Especially the ones that wiggled. That didn't make him any less loud or ungrateful."

The food was served and a waiter left to see to their needs. Sandry and Daja filled Thomas' ears with stories, as promised, and Briar kept talking to his father-in-law all the while feeling like he was missing the mark somehow. Tris promised Keth she would keep him apprised of her rain charm experiments—she was certain she was close to a solution—and Darra shone with pride at the thought of being the first people in Capchen to have them one day. And Chime, who was usually the center of attention wherever she was, remained unusually quiet as the other talked and laughed. Two bells passed far too quickly, and soon, it was time to see the pair to their ship.

Daja and Sandry said their goodbyes at the door, heading back towards the Citadel together in company with the young noblewoman's complement of guards. Thomas was suitably impressed and earnestly promised he would learn courtly manners, so he would be able to visit the Citadel with Tris next time without embarrassing himself. The Trader rolled her eyes and leaned on her staff, until the boy added that he would learn the Trader manners too so Daja could introduce him to her caravan if there ever was a chance.

"After all," he had said with a cheeky grin, "You're my sister's sister, and that kinda makes us family!" He'd blushed straight to his roots when Sandry kissed him on the cheek in reply, and Briar had to cover his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing.

The rest of the group ambled their way to the docks, Briar allowing Thomas to draw him towards the pier as the boy rambled on about the different ships stationed there and the countries they originated from. Just like his sister, the young man thought as he watched the boy point out differences and similarities with confidence. Wanting to know something about everything, and remembering it all as soon as it's read.

The glass maker dropped back with his teacher, slowing his step so they lagged a bit behind. "So," Keth said after a while, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I never had a chance, did I?"

"Probably not," she replied kindly. "Even if...I don't think we would have suited each other very well, Keth."

"I know," he said with a rueful laugh. "And really, it's my pride that's hurt more than my heart. That probably says enough right there. I am sorry about...everything."

"You're forgiven," she said simply. "I already told you that. And I think, perhaps, it all worked out for the best." She grinned at her husband's back, watching him listen intently to her brother ramble on.

"Oh, really?" Keth's smile returned, amusement making his eyes dance, and she flushed slightly. "Hmm...well, let me know when children are on the way, and I'll send a gift."

"Keth! We're not even-" Desperately, she swallowed the words trying to escape her mouth, and glared at him coldly. "It's not like that," she hissed in tones of ice.

"Yet," he replied tauntingly. "You're not one to let something stop you, when you've made up your mind about it. You grabbed wind scrying by the neck and made it do your bidding. Before you know it, you'll have Briar by the-" He winked. "-neck as well."

"If my success with wind scrying is an indication of how that's going to go, it does not bode well for me," she grumbled, willing her blush away. "I was sick for weeks when I got to Summersea because of it!"

"That is how many pregnancies start, I hear..." Keth kissed her on the forehead, despite her scowl, and laughed as a spark leapt between them. "Goodbye, Tris."

"Goodbye Keth," she said as she got on her tiptoes to reach his cheek. "You will find someone too."

"I hope she's prettier than Briar." She elbowed him, and not gently, but he laughed all the more.

Thomas hugged both his parents goodbye, then paused by his sister who looked down at him and realized this would probably be the last time she did so. When she saw him again, if she saw him again, he would be tall like his brothers.

"Write to me," she told him with a smile. "And I will write to you. I want to hear all about how your studies go, and whether or not Keth finds a pretty wife. I'm counting on you."

"I will," he agreed with an impish smile. More quietly, he added, "I think he might need all the help he can get."

"I can write my own letters, thank you," Keth objected. "Come on, apprentice. Kiss your sister, and we'll be off."

Thomas did, kissing Tris on the cheek before hugging her fiercely for a moment. "I'll tell the others," he promised for her ears alone. "I'll tell them how amazing you are. And they'll be so jealous I got to see you first!"

Tris had no reply, for she could not speak past the tears that welled up in her throat. Chime, however, keened softly and leaned from the mage's shoulders towards the young man. Thomas held out his arms at the glass dragon leapt to him, twining her neck about his and holding tight with all four claws.

"I know," Thomas said, sniffing manfully as he tried not to cry. "I'll miss you too. No one's going to believe me when I tell them how pretty you are." Chime keened again and then looked back at Tris with a doleful stare.

"Are you sure?" the weather mage asked, tilting her head to the side. "If you go with them, you won't see me again for a very long time. Perhaps ever."

The dragon seemed to consider this, rubbing her snout against Thomas' hair all the while as the boy kept murmuring how much he was going to miss her and rubbed surreptitiously at his eyes. Tris had wondered at her dragon taking so well to her brother. They had rarely been apart since they had been introduced, and Thomas was learning the glassmaker's trade. She dabbled, but she would never be a master. Not like Thomas wished to be.

Chime nodded suddenly, holding all the tighter to Thomas as he tried to disentangle her from his neck. Tris shrugged and nodded back. "Leave her," she told her brother, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"But we have to get on the boat," Thomas protested, glancing over his shoulder at their ship. "And what if she tries to fly back too far from the shore? She could get hurt?"

"She won't," Tris said reassuringly. "She's not coming back to me. Keth, I hope you have room for one more in your cabin, looks like you're taking on an unexpected passenger."

"What? Who?" The lightning mage paused as he saw Thomas holding Chime. "Oh, come on. Seriously?"

"She wants to go with him," his teacher replied, his apprentice's mouth dropping open as he realized what was being said.

"I can keep her?" he cried, joy lighting his face before he asked, "But what about the charms you sell from her? Won't you need them?"

"I'll be fine," his sister said firmly, "They were hardly worth selling with the cost of feeding her put into the equation. Now, you can sell them, so you'll have money to feed her. Keth knows what she likes and will help you manage her."

"A generous gift," Darra said as she stepped up to the pair with a dubious smile.

"She'll be good for him," the redheaded mage assured her quietly. "And he for her. I think she's been getting bored with me, honestly. Someone younger to keep an eye on her is just what she needs."

"If you say so, I will trust your judgement."

"It was good to meet you, Briar," Keth said as he shook the plant mage's hand firmly, trying not to imagine the next few moons traveling with the winged terror. "And I'm glad for you and Tris. I hope you're very happy together."

"Thank you," Briar said, smiling weakly. "Ah, I promised Tris...I haven't behaved very well, since you got here."

"Neither have I," the glassmaker admitted gruffly. "So, let's just agree that next time we'll both behave better."

"I can do that."

"Take care of her, Briar."

"As much as she lets me."

The Captain informed them from the deck that he was casting off. They could stay behind or come along, but they had better decide now. Thomas scampered up the gangplank, and Keth followed at a more dignified, if still hasty, pace.

Briar put his hand in Tris' as they watched the ship cast off from the dock, sails coming down to catch the wind that whipped across the bay. He glanced at her when he noticed choppy breeze smooth out to a steady blow in exactly the right direction the ship needed to go.

 _What's the use of being a weather mage if you can't use it to your advantage every now and then_ , she murmured in his mind as she waved at the shrinking figures on deck.

 _I didn't say anything,_ he protested, laughter echoing in the thought.

 _You didn't have to._

-090-

Tris had given a lot of thought to what to do next. She had to speak with Briar, but chances seemed scarce all of a sudden. She didn't wish to blurt it out at the wrong time. It had to be private for certain and with time for them to speak afterwards. There couldn't be the possibility of someone else stumbling in, or given her luck, they would. Eventually, she settled on an idea, and it had the added benefit of taking care of a chore she had been putting off for awhile.

Briar had always liked her hair. He would mess with it to bug her as a child at Discipline, up until the sparks got out of control. And he had visibly lamented when she had started tying it up in braids similar to Daja's. He never actually offered to help when she had braided and unbraided her hair, but he almost always turned up out of the blue when she did with a book or a question or an idea he just happened to want to talk about right them.

It was a good thing her hair was naturally strong, too. The power she stored in her copper locks were enough to shake mountains to dust, if handled improperly. It, by its very nature, would erode her hair, if allowed to remain in the braids too long. Usually, she took care of this task between once a week and once every other week. Her hair would be stripped of its power, oiled with a special protectant that helped slow the erosion and rinsed. Each time since her marriage to Briar, she had done it during the day, while he had been out of the house or in his garden at work. Tonight, she planned to do things a little differently.

Daja met them at the door when they arrived and asked if the pair made it safely to their ship. She had arrived only moments before herself, having brought back a package from the Citadel. There was pie and tea waiting at the dining room table, and Briar was cheerful as he described waving to the pair as their ship set sail into the harbor. The smith mage took note of Briar's improved mood and decided she didn't need to ask Tris what had caused the change the night before. It was enough that things were better now.

They lingered over the dessert until Tris got up with a sigh and announced she was going upstairs.

"Tired already?" Daja asked, surprised at the early hour.

"No, but I've not been giving my hair enough time out of their braids, and I can tell," her sister replied lightly. "I will need to do a long break this time and treat it with the oil at least twice."

Her sister nodded in understanding. Her own braids did not have to be taken out as often, but they did require some care. It always took more time than she remembered. "Do you have enough rope to store what you have collected?"

"Yes, Sandry made sure I had plenty before I was to head to Lightsbridge," the weather mage said with a rueful smile. "In truth, she gave me enough for three years, which perhaps says how much she trusted my 'only one year away' promise."

"You have been known to lose track of time in big libraries," Daja shrugged, and her sister rolled her eyes with a small smile.

"I doubt even I could lose years in one. I will bid you goodnight as I probably won't be down again," she replied, coming around to kiss her sister on the cheek. For not the first time the smith mage noticed how much more comfortable their often standoffish sibling had gotten with physical affection the last few months. "And I will see you upstairs later," she told Briar before suiting her words to actions and leaving.

Briar sat very still, following Tris with his eyes as he ignored the cup of tea raised halfway to his lips. Daja watched him watching her and rolled her eyes.

"I am going to do some work in my room," she said as she put her cup down and rose.

"Hm?" he said, coming back to the present. "We're not going to play Towers?" It was a Trader game, and her favorite. When he had proposed a match earlier, she had accepted readily.

"Not when your mind is clearly somewhere else," she snorted dryly. "It would not be a challenge then."

"My mind is not somewhere else," he protested, eyes already turning back towards the stairs.

"Liar," she said without rancor as she left the room. "I will see you in the morning."

Briar ignored the fact that she was right. "Your loss," he called after her. "Goodnight."

It didn't take the young man long to rationalize a reason to head to the room he shared with Tris. He had trimmed his shakkan only the other night, and he had yet to check that all was well with the clipped places. Of course, it always was, and the miniature tree would have gotten his attention if even a hint of rot or infestation had set it. Still, it was lazy not to check, so he should go upstairs right now to do so.

Tris was seated on her circular rug (a gift from Sandry) and in a protective warding. The stand she used to hold the undyed cotton ropes sat in front of her, and she carefully unbraided one section of hair with one hand as she braided a rope with the other. Sweat trickled down her face, and he paused to watch in admiration at her skill and control. That was the force of a tidal wave, traveling down one arm and through the other, from her braid to the rope. Enough to destroy half the city, if unleashed, and probably enough to wipe it straight from the map, if Tris was the one channeling it. And here she was, redistributing it from her hair to cloth with no more apparent effort than he used when weeding. He could more easily move a mountain on his back than handle that much power at once.

Quickly, Briar took his shakkan from its shelf and looked each branch over with swift, practiced fingers. The old tree was fine, as he had known it would be, and was put back on its shelf. Leaving the mage to settle into a seat and watch with the perfect alibi.

Briar was fascinated. As she slowly worked along each row, curls came springing back to life. It was hard to remember how much hair she actually has until it was loose and free, he mused as he smiled to himself. If not for the curls, it would probably be long enough for her to sit on. With the curls, it was still a tumble of copper rings that reached more than halfway down her back.

Catching sight of something unfamiliar on the table, he spied a long-toothed comb with wide-set teeth and a bottle of oil. Of course, she would need to remove all the tangles before the oil could be applied. Otherwise, it would not coat each hair evenly, and that would defeat the purpose of this whole process.

Briar had never helped Tris with her hair before, though he had wanted to. At first, it had been because boys didn't mess with girls hair like that. Not unless you were a bit girly yourself. Later, it had been too personal. Too...intimate. Sandry or Daja had helped, sometimes, in the beginning. But no one had, that he knew of, since they had gotten back together as adults.

He should help her, Briar reasoned as he watched her free the final braid (earthquakes, he thought). A good, attentive husband would. It would be a good story to tell her mother, and she wouldn't be able to see him while she worked. It would be easier to keep his distance that way, so his promise to pretend to be her husband for her family and his promise to back off so she wouldn't get attached would both be met.

That is why, when the shield came down, he scooted his chair up behind her and said, "I need to comb out the tangles first, right?"

"What?" Tris asked, jumping in surprise. She hadn't realized he was already in the room, counting on the proposed game to keep him downstairs, at least until she had the tangles out, cursed things.

"If you don't mind," he added quickly. "I thought it would be a good story for your mother, and you know, tangles are hard to get out yourself so..." Briar trailed of weakly, listening to himself. It sounded a good deal less convincing outside of his head.

"I don't mind," she said softly, turning her back to him once more, "If you don't mind."

"I don't," he replied quietly and started to work.

It was a slow, meticulous job, but if there was one lesson Briar had learned being a gardener, it was patience… with things that were worth it, anyway. Tris leaned her back against his leg as he worked and stayed very still. She did not yelp or complain when he got to a particularly stubborn knot. He tried very hard to keep his mind on the task at hand, but it was difficult.

He could bury his hands up to his wrists in the metallic curls. And something about that image was enticing in a way he had never thought possible.

"Are you alright?" he asked after awhile, if only to distract himself.

"Yes," she murmured as though from far away.

He quirked his eyebrow, even though she couldn't see it, and asked tauntingly, "You aren't asleep, are you?"

She stifled a yawn behind one small, nail-bitten fist before responding. "No."

 _I am not sure I believe you_ , he teased as his lips stretched in a wide smile.

Tris felt herself smile in return. _When did you learn to comb out long hair?_

 _Evvy would need help, and Rosethorn made it clear she was my responsibility. I think the girl wore headscarves to not have to comb her hair, but I would make her take them off every few days to get the worst tangles out._

 _Your practice shows._

She had forgotten how relaxing it could be, to let someone else manage her hair. It had been years since anyone, save the occasional barber to trim the ragged ends, had touched her curls besides her. Briar's hands were firm yet gentle, tackling each snarled tangle of hair with a patience she had rarely displayed for the task.

Briar grinned as he felt Tris relax further, deciding all those fights with Evvy when dealing with her tangled locks had been worth it after all. For some reason, proving himself capable of wielding a comb well was suddenly very important. He gently tugged the comb through the forest of curls one last time and declared himself finished as he did.

Tris hid her sigh of disappointment and leaned forward again, preparing to rise.

"Where are you going?" he asked as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't I have to put the oil in?"

"I didn't think you would want to," she explained as she settled back into her seat. "It gets everywhere, and I usually do it over the washbasin to minimize how much spills."

"Well, I am wearing old clothes," he replied logically. "And that's a Sandry dress, so it should be safe too. I'll get a towel to protect the floor. That should be enough, right?"

"It should be," she agreed, wondering if her plan could have gone any better had she scripted it. That he would want to help she had never expected, but it made the warmth in her chest glow all the brighter. She would find the right moment and would say it. It had to be tonight.

"Well, ok then," Briar said simply because he was not ready to stop touching her hair. He fetched the towel as promised, popped the cork off the top and got to work. He had watched enough to know he only needed a little at a time, and to start from the tips and work his way in. The oil made her hair gleam like the copper he had named her for. Perfect spirals formed as he worked farther in, and he quickly started talking again as his mind wandered into dangerous territory again. Like these ringlets, on white, freckled skin and not much else.

"How often are you supposed to do this?" He asked as he tried to ignore how much he enjoyed running his fingers through her hair.

Tris no longer trusted her voice. Oil and Briar and his fingers... _Every other week or so_ she replied in a mental voice that was far steadier than she could have managed aloud.

Briar counted the weeks they had been married before answering. _You mean you waited...six weeks?_

 _No, I was doing it during the day,_ she explained as though it was nothing special. _If I don't wait too long, I can have it unbraided, oiled, and rebraided in less than two hours._

Briar was impressed but disappointed at the same time. _Why? I wouldn't have minded._ Which was putting it mildly. He had missed at least two opportunities, maybe three or four, to help!

 _Not everyone likes the smell_. He caught the edges of the memory she sent, of Glaki wrinkling her nose in disgust.

 _I dunno,_ he said as he absently took a sniff. _I think it smells nice_. He wasn't lying, and began mentally cataloging the scents as he absently rubbed two fingers together near his nose. _Lavender, rosemary...argan? Olive?_

 _Both._ Tris was actively biting her lip as his fingers began to work from the base of her skull to the top of her head. The pain helped her focus on something- else. Anything else.

 _I could probably make this_ , Briar said, trying to ignore the flush he felt creeping over his own face. _I mean, lavender and rosemary are in my garden, but it wouldn't be hard to get the rest._

 _It's not that expensive._ Tris shrugged slightly, careful not to move too much. _Crane makes it at a fair price._ Briar's fingers stopped just behind her ears as he went very still. _Briar?_ She asked when the silence and stillness began to stretch.

"Crane makes this?" he queried in obvious disbelief.

Tris turned herself slightly, just enough so she could see his shocked face. "Yes, he's been making it from the beginning," she said softly.

"You went to _Crane_ for help?" he snorted derisively. "You could've asked me. Or Rosethorn, you could have asked _her_..."

"I did!" she snapped back, angry red spots growing on her cheeks. "Three weeks after I started braiding power into my hair and it started falling out in clumps, I _did_ ask for help! She tried...oh, lots of things. They helped some, but it wasn't enough. I was ready to give up, wearing power in my hair was _not_ worth the risk of going bald. _She_ took me to Crane. _She_ bullied him into helping. _And_ she negotiated for him to continue to make it while we traveled and send it wherever I was." Clicking her teeth shut on the rush of words, the weather witch took several deep breaths before continuing more calmly.

"When we got back, I negotiated my own contract with him," she said, turning away from him to stare out the open balcony door. It was easier than facing the hurt in his eyes. "He's been selling it to me ever since." Heaving a heavy sigh, she added more quietly, "I know you don't _like_ his green house, but it means he can grow plants here that others can't. Plants like argan trees. The argan oil is not only ruinously expensive at certain times of the year, it can go rancid if not properly stored. Rosethorn knew and understood all of that and put up with a very smug Crane for weeks to help me."

"She never told me," Briar said in a strained voice as though that somehow made his outburst alright.

"I asked her not to," his wife admitted, and he could tell she was blushing as her neck turned pink. "My hair...it looked like something you would see on a plague victim at its worst."

The plant mage blinked, as something connected in the back of his mind. "Was this when you started wearing headscarves all the time again?"

"Yes."

"Which is why-"

"Yes."

Briar's fingers began to work again as his brain connected the dots. The fight had been one of their worst, and for them, that was saying something. He had only been teasing, and she had already warned him to leave her headscarf alone. He hadn't listened. The tug had only dislodged it an inch, but she had whirled on him and screamed like he had snatched it wholesale. He had screamed back, sick of her attitude.

The worst part, in his memory, had been Rosethorn's reaction. Normally, the short-haired dedicate had taken his side or, more likely, stayed out of the fighting. This time her look had been disapproving as Tris had disappeared up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door behind her.

"She did warn you," was all she said, but it felt like a slap in the face at the time. Eventually, Rosethorn had voluntarily gone up to speak with her ( _Rosethorn actually choosing to get involved!_ ), and Briar had been left reeling by what had felt like a complete betrayal.

It had taken two weeks of awkward, strained silence for things to go back to normal. Rosethorn had refused to discuss the incident, saying only it was not his business, and if he wanted to know, he needed to ask Tris. His pride had been too badly wounded to admit his own fault in the matter, and the only consolation had been Daja and Sandry seemed just as confused about why their foster sister had exploded as he.

Then, one day, Tris had come downstairs with her hair in braids again and it was like the last two weeks had never happened. Neither of them had ever brought it up again, until now.

Looking back, he could see the signs of her fear, her worry. She had been short-tempered with everyone, even Lark. She had checked her headscarves constantly, and he'd teased her about becoming vain. She hadn't been reading everything in sight. And he-

He had been too busy flirting to put it all together.

The object of his attention had been a wealthy farmer's daughter, whose father wanted her groomed for higher things. Schooling at the templer put her in the way of wealthy merchant's sons and minor lordlings. She had chosen to flirt with a gardener.

Briar had flirted back and gone walking with her a few times. Nothing else had happened. Three sisters who might be spying from the back of your mind tended to put a damper on things, and blocking them didn't help. Blocking meant you had something to hide and endless questions when you got back. Not that it had mattered. She had been engaged to a minor lord's third son in two moons' time, and he had moved on.

And a moon later they had all left Discipline to go travel, and his mind had been too full of new people and places to think about much else.

I really will hurt her, he realized with a sickening drop in his stomach. Up until this very moment he had been unwilling to admit that he had a hope, a small one, hidden away in a secret corner of his heart. That maybe Sandry was wrong, and that, if she was wrong, maybe there was a chance. All he had needed was proof. Well, he had it now, heart-wrenching as it may be.

Time and again, I jump to the wrong conclusion, he berated himself as he carefully ran his oil-slick fingers through her hair. This would be the last time he would ever have this chance. All I do is blunder forward, making the same mistakes like somehow things will be different this time. I don't listen, I don't think...I'm a fumble-fingered bleater who can't even trust she might have a reason. A good one, too. I don't deserve her, and I never will.

It didn't matter if...well, it just didn't matter. None of it did. Carefully, he did one final sweep through her perfectly spiralled curls. "You're done," he said softly as he picked up the towel and carefully wiped his hands clean.

"May I have the towel to wrap my hair in?" she asked in just as quiet a voice, and he held it out over one shoulder.

As she took it from him, he said, "I left something undone in my workroom earlier. It needs to be finished tonight. It might take awhile, so don't wait up for me."

She paused before nodding slowly. "Alright."

He rose without another word and headed for the door.

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, sounding strained. "For yelling at you. For not trusting you. You didn't deserve either. I know it's been years, but...I'm sorry."

He felt shame, then. Bone deep shame that burrowed through his gut like a thousand worms. He had been the one to start the fight, both then and now, and she was apologizing first. He really didn't deserve her. "It's alright," he heard himself say. "I'm sorry too."

Tris wasn't sure why, but as he closed the door behind himself, she felt as though something had changed between them. She could wait up, though, and they could talk again when he came to bed. Maybe he just needed some time to think, while he worked. It would be alright, she could still tell him tonight. Then she felt it, his mental shields sliding into place and blocking her out completely.

Something broke in her chest as the link was severed to all but the barest of threads. He had done this before, when he'd been doing a difficult magical working or 'been' with someone. But he hadn't shut the mental door on her so firmly without reason since...before Namorn.

Tris felt the tears as they began to course down her face, and let them as she sat motionless on the floor.

She had been wrong. It was the only explanation she could think of that made any sense. He might be attracted to her, he might even want to tumble her, but he didn't love her like she had hoped. She had been so certain, so sure...

But why would he? The coldly practical part of her mind pointed out her mistakes with ruthless efficiency. She had lied to him, kept things from him. Stupid things. He wouldn't have liked her any less even if her hair had all fallen out. He probably would have been the easiest of her siblings to talk to about it. He had known her hair had been the only thing she had liked about herself. He would have understood that the threat of losing it all would have terrified her.

But instead she'd hidden the truth from him. Just like with the wind scrying and her scars and how she really felt about him. Who would love a woman they're always having to second guess? Always wondering what else she had chosen to keep to herself?

Her body moved as though in a dream some time later, rinsing the excess from her hair in her copper tub when it had set long enough. Pulling the water out with a twitch of her power, and leaving her hair hanging loose down her back. Changing into her nightgown, extinguishing the lamps and climbing into bed.

It was there, in the dark and alone, that she let the hurt that had been building for the last half-hour truly burst forth. With hiccupping gasps she hated, she sobbed into her pillow until she fell asleep. She drew her own shields about herself in a protective cocoon, blocking all three until they were no more than a wisp of a thought in the back of her mind. Tris wanted no one to witness her grief.

Briar did not return until well after midnight. He was silent as he entered the room, changing into his sleeping clothes and sliding next to her in the large, curtained bed. Turning his back to her as he laid down, the ex-thief told himself he must have gotten dirt in his eyes because he wasn't crying.

-090-

Tris woke for the first time in weeks not being held by Briar. She could feel his presence on the bed, but his shields were still up and the gap between them felt as if they were in separate rooms. She rose in silence, gathering her things and changing in the bathroom. She left her hair down, free and loose. She would have to wait until tonight to put the oils in it again, and until then, the best thing for the coppery twists was to leave them be.

Briar did not move from his spot until she was closing the bathroom door behind herself. He was gone before she was done.

Downstairs, the cook informed Tris that Master Briar had taken his breakfast out to the garden, and that Mistress Daja was packing in her rooms for a trip. Tris thanked her and asked only for a cup of tea as it felt like she had swallowed lead. She was about to seek out her sister when the older woman cleared her throat.

"Master Briar has been very busy, so I did not like to say anything," the cook began carefully, keeping her eyes on her work.

"Yes?" Tris prompted, forcing the annoyance out of her voice. This was part of her duties, regardless of whether or not she thought she had the patience for it today.

"The herb garden is needing a harvest," the round woman went on when she realized she had the mage's attention, " and I have what is needed to pack and preserve it."

The decision was easy to make. "I can harvest it, and I'll leave it in the kitchen for you when I am done."

The cook beamed, and Tris felt the corners of her mouth lift slightly in turn. "Gods bless you, Miss. Thank you," the cook said as she pulled a basket from under the counter with shears inside.

Tris was glad she had chosen an older dress for the day. An apron would keep off the worse of the dirt, but she disliked wearing anything new for outdoor work, even if it was a Sandry dress.

She found Daja in her forge, packing up some tools in a leather case.

"They are ready for you?" the weather witch asked, voice calm.

"Word arrived this morning, and the wagon should be here soon. I will be gone for three days, four at most. Will you-" Daja cut off as she turned to face her sister for the first time. "Tris, are you alright?" she asked slowly.

"I will be," the redhead replied with a faint grin. With a shrug she added, "Briar and I argued." It was close enough to the truth and would prompt a lack of questions. Daja never inserted herself in their arguments.

The smith mage paused, considering her words and weighing them against her rather altered sister's face. Tris didn't look like they had argued. There was no anger there and no frustration either. There was a quiet pain that seemed etched in the corners of her eyes and a tightness in her mouth."Do I need to put this off?" she said carefully.

"No," Tris said firmly, forcing herself to smile. "We'll work it out; we always do. And everything will go back to normal." It was almost more than she could say. Normal. Her without Briar as more than a brother. The word was like ashes on her tongue.

Daja hesitated again but was less certain this time as she studied her sister. "If you are sure," she said, unable to let it go just yet.

"I am," she agreed. "You worked for moons on this project, and he's paying through the nose for you to go install it yourself. Go and enjoy your success." Her smile this time was genuine, as was the kiss she planted on the dark-skinned cheek.

It was the smile that convinced the smith. "I will," she said, kissing her sister back before returning to her work.

Tris collected the basket, shears and apron from the kitchen, her first task complete, and headed into the garden.

-090-

Briar had thought he would be safe outside. He had bolted from the bed as soon as the door was closed to the bathroom this morning and had been outside before she'd reached the stairs. He had plenty to keep him occupied, here and in his workshop. Most of it wasn't things he had to do, but if he wanted to get the most out of his garden and keep it at its best, it's what he should do. So, he buckled down and threw himself into it.

Weeding, watering. Distributing compost. Trimming here, training there. Harvesting leaves, pods, seeds or buds. Setting some to dry, setting others to soak. Putting still others into a grinder and taking the paste that came out to dry or drain or whatever it was he needed from that particular plant.

He heard when the door from the kitchen opened and ignored it as he felt the familiar presence come outside. He expected she wanted to talk, but he didn't plan on giving her a chance. Keeping his head down, Briar buried himself in work.

Half a bell later, when no one had approached and he could take the suspense no longer, he looked up.

Tris knelt in the herb garden, her hair tied back from her face with a scarf and the rest tumbling wildly down her back. She was carefully cutting what was available with a sharp shears. It was a job he had been promising to do for two weeks and, if he was honest, putting off for this very reason.

It was the only place Tris would work in his garden. She had made it clear long ago that she didn't feel comfortable working with plants she didn't know. Given the variety in Briar's garden, he could understand. Herbs, though. The ones used in cooking and basic medicine, those she knew and understood.

So when it came time for a harvest, if Briar had his hands full with other work, she would come out and work in _his_ garden. Tris wasn't afraid to roll up her sleeves and get dirty, a rarity among the women he usually kept company with. She would work for hours with a meticulous, firm confidence that got the job done faster than it looked. And when she was done, she left peace in her wake. None of the plants would be mishandled in any way, no cuts made beyond what was necessary. She would keep her feet and knees where they would do no harm.

But best of all, the plants knew her. It wasn't like with him and Rosethorn, but they turned to face her as blooms did the wind or leaves a long-awaited rain.

"She-sky," he said to himself as he watched for a moment. "She-wind and she-rain."

Abruptly, he turned away, ignoring the stab in his chest as he went back to work. She deserved better than him, and he was going to help her find it. But until then, he had to keep his distance. He wished now he hadn't put off that chore; it made her so much harder to ignore, in the middle of his garden.

-090-

Tris generally did not like to be in the sun. It was bright and hot and meant there would be fewer interesting clouds in the sky. But today, with her knees pressing into the fresh loam and the heat making the herbs perfume the air with their scent, she decided it wasn't so bad.

And all of it reminded her of Briar.

She smiled slightly as she picked a sprig of thyme, rolling it gently between her fingers as its sharp scent drifted to her sensitive nose. He liked her pastries, with the chopped chicken and thyme and rosemary and garlic gravy. And she was always jealous of how many he could eat and not seem to gain an ounce.

The smile grew, then faltered as she remembered -focus on the job, she told herself as she began to work again. Basil, which went well with the tomatoes they received regularly from a certain garden in Winding Circle. Thyme, as from before. Rosemary, with its almost sweet fragrance filling the air. Mint, which would take over the garden, if it wasn't cut regularly. Bay, which she had brought him from her travels to Tharios and back. Tarragon, which had come from a Trader clan. Tris was still experimenting with cooking using the herb. Parsley, which always reminded her of chicken soups. And chives, which were technically more of an onion but were easy to grow and kept them themselves along one row.

Each a different feel in her fingers, each a different scent in her nose. Each reminding her of Briar. And as she worked, she ignored the cracks that seemed to grown in her chest an inch at a time.

-090-

Darra didn't have to visit in person to drop off the invitation, but she felt an explanation was in order. Besides, she wanted to thank the four for attending the send off the afternoon before. It had been a spur of the moment decision, and so aware she might find the house empty of who she sought, she went hoping for some luck.

She got it. Daja greeted the merchant wife outside as the young Trader woman supervised the loading of several boxes onto a wagon. She briefly explained that work was taking her out of the city for a few days, and Darra wished her a safe journey, thanked her for her kind attention to Thomas the day before, and moved on. It was clear the smith's mind was elsewhere, and she did not want to be a bother.

The housekeeper met her at the front door and was happy to escort Mistress Chandler to her daughter after bringing Daja the burlap sacking she asked for.

Darra supposed she should not have been surprised to find Tris in the kitchen, a knife in hand as she deftly dismembered leaf from stalk from what appeared to be fresh herbs. She was talking to the cook, who was chuckling to herself as she kneaded dough on a separate counter. Both cut off abruptly as she walked into the room.

"Mother?" Tris asked, clearly surprised. "We...we weren't expecting to see you today. Were we?" The last was added in a hesitant voice as though she doubted her own memory.

Darra Chandler smiled as she said, "You weren't, I know! I just wanted to see how everything is and thank you for yesterday, but you're- your braids!"

The weather witch blinked before putting a hand up to her hair. "I had forgotten," she admitted as she tugged one metallic curl. "I have to take them out so often to care for my hair."

"How long?" the merchant's wife asked as she walked a circle around her daughter. She wouldn't have guessed those neat braids had held so much hair! She hadn't realized just how much curl her daughter's red locks still contained.

"At least two days this time," the young woman said with an offhanded shrug as she cleaned her hands in the water basin. "Maybe three."

"And what about all the..." Her mother waved a hand as though to indicate the raw energy of waves, earthquakes and gale force winds in that single motion. Somehow, in the way of family, Tris understood.

"The power," she replied in a normal voice, "is stored and warded in my room. No one can touch it but me without serious consequences." Darra glanced questioningly towards the cook, who saw.

"The maids won't even go in the room," the cook said as though to the air. "Silly girls. Not when the mistress has her hair down. Everyone knows, though. Mistress Moss was quite explicit in what could happen to anyone who touched a mage rope full of say lightning or the heat from a volcano. And if they survived, they would still have to face her afterwards."

"It's best this way," Tris said as she wiped her hands on her apron and put the bowls of stalks and leaves on the counter. "Everyone staying out means less potential for accidents. Besides, Briar-" Her voice caught, and she cleared her throat as she looked down abruptly. "He tends to keep his things neat, and we can manage for two or three days."

The weather witch caught the look of disgust that crossed her mother's face and didn't understand it until she saw the cook's worried glance. Of course. Not that there was any fear of that, but...

"You should be able to handle it from here," she told the cook, who agreed with a hasty nod, as she removed her apron and pulled her mother gently out of the room.

Darra, thankfully, had not recovered enough to speak, and Tris quickly filled the void. "There are enormous advantages to having a sister who is a stitch-witch. Do you know, some years ago Daja was having problems with her sheets. She ruined three or four sets in a row because of oils from her metal crafting. Sandry, being the clever mage she is, adapted the charms she wove into our clothes and made a present of her special sheets to all of us for Mid-Winter that year." The older woman seemed to come out of her shock and listened with interest as Tris settled them in the dining room. The cook followed soon after with a fresh pot of a tea and a tray of biscuits. "They are essentially impossible to stain. Everything simply...wipes away."

" _Everything_?" The awe in her companion's voice was almost embarrassing. "That's...truly remarkable."

Tris actually did know this for a fact. It hadn't been a conversation for her ears, but her winds had carried it to her nonetheless. Briar had been speaking to Daja in the hallway, almost a moon afterwards as he marveled at how well the sheets had cleaned up. 'Everything just wipes away,' he had half-whispered in shock. 'Couldn't even tell where it had been.' Daja had been impressed.

Apparently, Darra was too.

"She is a stitch-witch; it's what she does," Tris replied with an uncomfortable shrug, hoping her mother would drop it and leave it alone. Darra nodded to herself thoughtfully.

"And you said she adapted it from the charms she weaves into your clothes?" the stately woman went on curiously.

The weather witch was glad of any change of subject at this point. "Yes, although there is more than one of those."

"More than one?" her mother repeated in confusion.

"For instance, this dress that I am wearing now," Tris explained as she motioned to the simple frock she wore. It was one of the first dresses Sandry had made for her after they returned to Emelan from their travels. It was a light grey cambric that had worn well over the years. "It is a 'Sandry made' dress. But because it is a light dress, it is made specifically to resist things you would encounter on a hot day. So sweat, wrinkles, dust, stains and marks will simply shake off or wipe off. It is not, however liquid proof. It will hold water or any other liquid. It simply refuses to hold any color, odor or impurity in that liquid. This is because the charm that makes fabric liquid proof also takes away its ability to breath."

"That would get very warm very quickly," Darra observed as she absorbed every word eagerly.

"Precisely," her daughter agreed with a small smile." So she saves those for 'rainy day' dresses. In the middle of summer, they are just about useless, but in the spring when it's still cold and wet and miserable, it's quite nice to wear something that keeps the damp out. And mud wipes right off it like glass."

Her companion considered that, tapping her lip thoughtfully before asking, "Your sheets, they are..?"

"Something else entirely, probably," Tris said hastily, adding, "You would have to ask Sandry to learn more. I am afraid it is something I know only a little about." A little was an overstatement, as what she had said was more or less assumptions based on an overhead conversation. And now the prospect of finding out for herself seemed even further away than before.

"I may do that," her mother agreed thoughtfully before shaking her head as though to clear it. "Well, I was going to stop and visit, but you look busy."

"I can make time..." Tris offered, almost glad of a possible distraction.

"No, no, you are-"

"Mistress Tris! Mistress Tris!" The maid rushing towards her was Rod's wife, and her eyes sparkled as she crowed, "Marget's baby is coming! And two weeks early!"

The news was a surprise but not an alarming one. "Have you told Marget's mother?" Tris asked, and the maid stopped in her tracks flushing hotly. "Go tell her," the weather witch said calmly, "and the rest of the staff. Everyone is free to leave as soon as they finish whatever they are in the middle of right now."

"May I finish my Aunt's tasks, that she may leave now?" the young woman asked hastily.

"Yes, of course."

"I think, if you don't mind, I will call on you tomorrow when things are quieter," Darra said as she put a hand on Tris' arm. "But before I go, I will give you this." The envelope was of heavy paper with a fancy seal in green wax holding the flap closed. "It is a party for your father's birthday. Normally, we would not hold such a large celebration here, so far from home, but your father thinks it is a good opportunity to impress some of our new local business contacts and gives us a reason to be generous without being wasteful. We hope you will come and bring your husband and sisters as well."

"I will ask them, but I think it is safe to say we will all attend," Tris replied with a faint smile. "I will see you tomorrow." She accepted her mother's hug in farewell, unaware of how her gentle reciprocation was nearly enough to bring tears to the woman's eyes.

Still, as Darra left she could not help feeling that something had been off about her visit, other than the chaos of people coming and going. Imagine, having an entire staff related and letting them all leave for the birth of a single child. Well, it was not how she would have run her household, but Tris seemed not to mind and that was all that mattered.

Had Tris been more reserved than usual? Or was this normal for her? Tiredness took people in funny ways sometimes, as did the moon days. It still irked her to admit that she barely knew the young woman her daughter had become. Her instincts were buzzing faintly that all wasn't quite right, but she didn't know enough to actually do anything about it.

Tomorrow, she decided as she lengthened her stride. They would be mostly alone, especially if Briar kept to his work, and there would be time to gently pry if need be. If her instincts still buzzed at her in alarm.

Tomorrow.

-090-

Briar had finally finished his outdoor work when Daja came to say goodbye. She didn't hug him, and he didn't mind. He was soaked in sweat and dust, and she was ready for a journey.

"Tris said everything is fine, is it?" she asked bluntly as she clasped hands with him. "I can put this off or return early, if I need to."

"If she's fine, I'm fine," Briar replied with a shrug.

The smith mage frowned as alarm bells went off in her head once more. "And what's that supposed to mean?" she asked suspiciously.

"That it's fine," he snapped back. Taking a deep breath, he amended, "It's fine, Daj'. I mean it. Go, milk the fat cow for every copper bit he's got, and we'll see you in a couple of days."

Well, that told her no more than talking with Tris had, she thought as she frowned. Still, if neither was even willing to discuss it, she could be no help here. "Alright. And you are certain letting the staff off is fine? We agreed to that when we thought we would all be home while they were gone."

"They're having a baby: of course it's alright," he said with a half-hearted grin. Rod had already come by to share the news, though the young man was less effusive in his joy. It wasn't that he was displeased by the addition to the household, but it would have little to do with him until the child was a bit older. "The women wouldn't hardly be able to focus if we didn't. And we did agree to it nearly a moon ago. We'll manage, and you can help when you get back."

"As long as Tris is the one cooking," Daja teased in an attempt to draw out a real smile.

His laugh was weak, but the smile still came. "I'm not _that bad_..." he protested.

The smith mage clapped him on the shoulder and left.

Briar hadn't realized how hungry he was until just then, his stomach rumbling ominously at him. The cook would have something set aside for him on the counter; she always did when he forgot about lunch. His feet were taking him to the kitchen before he finished the thought, and he swung open the door careless of how might be inside. Spotting Tris by the oven, he almost tried to leave again. The door gave him away, though, and his wife turned towards him with freshly baked bread on one pan and pastries on another.

"Your lunch is there," she said, motioning to a towel-wrapped mound on the counter, "the cook left it for you since you didn't eat. These pastries are for dinner, chicken with garlic gravy." She paused, checking something on the stove top, and he quickly picked up the mound. "I'm going to eat up on the balcony tonight," she added before he could entirely escape, "there should be a good breeze. Do you want me to leave your food upstairs or downstairs?"

"Down is fine. I have a lot of work still to do." That, at least, was the truth. With everything he had started, he had several hours left before he would be finished for the night. "You probably shouldn't wait up for me either."

She turned away again, busy with something he couldn't see on the counter. "Then I won't. Do you need anything else?"

Briar shook his head, though she couldn't see, and said simply, "No, thank you. I'll clean my dishes when I'm done with them." He left without another word.

-090-

Rod was the last to leave. He had said earlier menfolk only got underfoot in a birth, so he checked in with Briar before going.

The plant mage was in his workshop, surrounded by various jars of oils and distillations and compounds as he carefully mixed a little of this and a little of that into each. The servingman waited patiently until Briar had finished his current row to clear his throat and ask, "Will you or Mistress Tris be needing anything else tonight?"

"I don't," Briar replied absently as he rubbed his neck. "I don't know about Tris."

"She is upstairs, sir," the older man replied diffidently.

"Ah." The plant mage paused in corking the bottle he held, then said, "I am sure if she didn't come and tell you, then she is fine."

"I wasn't too sure, sir, as she has not seemed herself today," Rod explained, his voice carefully neutral.

"She hasn't?" Briar tried to ignore the tightening in his gut, but his companion's next words only made it twist all the harder.

"Not at all, sir."

Briar understood that at this point he had a choice. He could wish Rod a goodnight and the man would drop it. Or he could take the bait and ask what the man meant.

"Why are you telling me this, Rod?" he finally asked, an edge in his voice as he hunched his shoulders as though anticipating a blow.

The manservant looked uncomfortable as he shrugged. "It's only that you are married to her, sir. And a husband usually knows why his wife is crying while she makes his dinner and leaves it on the counter."

Briar had only _thought_ his gut felt twisted before. He said nothing in return, could say nothing really. He had done what he promised not to do, and he didn't know how to fix it without making it worse.

Rod waited, then said quietly, "It wasn't my business, sir. If that's all?"

He nodded, mutely, and Rod withdrew. Briar set his work aside for a moment. Staring at his vine covered hands, his mind quested for a better option. He didn't find one. Sticking to his commitment was best. If he'd done that from the beginning, they wouldn't be in this mess.

He continued to work late into the night, then drew himself a bath in his old room to clean up. When he finally ascended stairs to his wife, she had either taken him at his word or was pretending well enough that he couldn't tell the difference. Silently he lay next to her, hands laced over his stomach as he stared at the canopy overhead.

This was misery.

-090-

Author's Notes:

You know, the servant/master relationship is always one that's fascinated me. Servants know as much or more about the people they serve then some of those people's closest friends. And yet there is still a line, a divide that isn't to be crossed. Rod is toeing that line, that's for sure, but given who the Master is I think he's safe enough for now.

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter. Thank you to those of you who reviewed! It is always appreciated. :) Now go click the button and review again! Please?

See you next week,

~CB~


	19. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Tris woke first the next morning and silently left the bedroom that was quickly losing the comfort it had held only days before. Downstairs, she prepared herself breakfast and went to eat in the study with her private ledger in front of her. She rarely made mistakes in her calculations, but it would not hurt to glance over them again while she ate. It also gave her an excuse to avoid the end of the house that contained Briar's workshop and garden until her mother arrived.

She heard the moment he was on the stairs: he was moving too quickly to be silent. His steps barely paused in the kitchen before moving on to his workroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Tris didn't need to check the bond to know his shields were still firmly in place.

It was going to be a very long day.

-090-

Darra arrived mid-morning and found her daughter answering the knock at the front door as she had suspected.

"The house seems a good deal quieter with everyone gone," the Chandler matriarch observed as they walked through the front hall. "Though I am sure you and Briar are enjoying the privacy."

Tris opened her mouth to lie and found she couldn't. She had lied for weeks now, piling falsehood on top of falsehood in a crumbling tower that threatened to bury her alive. She supposed she had consoled herself with the thought that, if Briar actually did love her, then they wouldn't really have been lies. Not truly. Her mother noticed her pause, giving her a concerned frown as she waited.

"We're not," the weather witch finally said. "We're...I'm not sure what to call it. It's complicated."

"What's complicated?" the older woman prompted, putting an arm about her shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"I...can't tell you." That, at least, was true. It wasn't just her secret: it never had been, and she couldn't reveal it without at least informing everyone involved first. Which would mean starting with Briar, who wouldn't even look at her at that moment.

Darra was surprisingly relieved. She wasn't happy seeing her daughter this upset; even if she barely knew the young woman, it bothered her to see her child hurting. But she couldn't imagine a woman's words being imbued with that much pain regarding her husband without there being love as part of the equation. It gave her hope that she hadn't realized she needed until it was there, burning fiercely in her heart.

"Difficulties and complications happen," she told her daughter, stifling her smile as it wasn't appropriate to the situation. "You are simply not going to see eye-to-eye on everything. This is true for every couple that has ever existed. Anyone who tells you otherwise is either lying or being lied to. Your sister tried to tell me that once, that she never argued with her dear husband. I told her that wasn't possible, and not just because she was not an easy person to live with. As it turns out, her wonderful husband had simply decided being angry with his wife was unmanly and refused to discuss it anytime there was a disagreement of any sort. So, in a way, she was right. They had never argued. Instead, tiny pinpricks of frustration were being stuffed away instead of dealt with properly. And when it came out, it was a mess. Both were hurt by it, more so than simply dealing with those small pinpricks would have been. But, pain must come before there can be healing. Now, they argue. They shout, and sometimes, she throws things. And afterwards, they make up and are stronger together than ever. Now, you and Briar have...argued?"

"In a way," her daughter agreed carefully. "It would be more accurate to say we hold opposing views on something."

"Then, whatever you wish to call it, you've gotten your grievances out in the open," her mother said as though the exact words were of no import. "You do not have to tell me what they are; I will respect your privacy. Is this the first time you have disagreed since you got married, or...?"

"No," Tris said, and that was also the truth as she remembered the fight over Keth. "No, we have fought over other things." Half-laughing to herself, she added, "They always seem rather silly afterwards."

"They usually are," her mother agreed with a dry smile. "How do you usually manage such disagreements?"

"We wait," her daughter explained carefully, "until our anger has cooled. We both have short tempers sometimes. And then we talk it out. Sometimes, we have to talk more than once because we'll get angry again. But eventually, we work it out." She did not add that this time there would be no working it out. Not really.

"It still hurts, though," her mother observed as she steered her daughter towards the kitchen. "Being at odds with someone you love."

"Yes," Tris agreed, stuffing away a hysterical giggle as she watched her guest find the teapot and fill it from the spigot. "Yes, it does." She loved Briar. She hadn't known such an admission could cause such pain...and yet watching her mother calmly test the pot to be sure it was full enough and set it over the oven where a fire always burned, she could almost believe everything was going to be alright.

Tris supposed she would have to tell her mother the truth eventually. Not now, of course. But in a year or so, when she was too old for them to force their will upon her life and the marriage had officially ended. She would go visit them and explain everything. They deserved that much and not just because she couldn't stand the thought of piling on more lies.

Her parents would be disappointed in her. Somehow that hurt worse than their anger or disgust, but she thought they may eventually understand. She would even tell them the entire truth, that she loved Briar...and that he had not returned the feeling. And that it wasn't his fault. She would be mended by then, surely, and perhaps, she could persuade them to return her bride price. If done quietly, there would be no shame. No one outside the family need find out. And then she would not need to spend the next decade or two worrying over that debt. Having a course of action helped bring the weather witch back in control of herself, though she remained quieter than usual.

"Well, unless you want to speak more of it, we'll have some tea and speak of something else," Darra said as she found the tin of dried leaves on the counter and added a generous scoop to the pot. "I am happy to listen, of course, if you want to...?"

"No," her daughter said quickly, finding herself seated at the small table in the corner as her mother bustled about an unfamiliar kitchen. "There's some scones left in that basket," she said, pointing. "If you would like some."

"Tea will do for me," the merchant wife said brightly. "Do you want one? No? What shall we talk of then, hm? How about some stories about your siblings? It seems unfair they should have so many about you without getting some in return."

"Gareth's letter did mention something that I've been meaning to ask about," Tris admitted, allowing herself to be distracted from the aching hole in her chest. "He said I learned to read before Ellwyn, and I shouldn't let her forget it."

"You did," her mother confirmed with a proud smile as she brought over the tea on a tray. The honey was already on the table, and both served themselves as she continued. "And Ellwyn was furious for weeks. She worked much harder on her lessons after that."

And so Tris heard about the time Leigh tried to raise a frog under his bed without telling anyone, and the time Ellwyn tried to cut her own hair. About Gareth saving a cat from drowning in the ocean, and how he still had one of its kittens and took it with him everywhere. About Tom and Tam occasionally pretending to be each other when they were younger and, occasionally, getting away with it. And how it was usually Tam's idea because Tom was certainly not happy putting on a dress but wanted his sister to be happy too much to refuse. About some of the more ridiculous suitors who had thrown themselves at Ellwyn, and about how proud their father had been when she'd chosen Delmar instead of some silly pup.

Then came the wedding. It sounded so very different from her own. Much of the extended family had come in for the event, and the house had been packed for weeks before and after. There had been the reading of the contracts, and it had been agreed a fine bargain on either side. He had impressed even the most particular of the crusty old aunts, and she had charmed even the most curmudgeonly old uncles. The ceremony had taken place in a the large city hall, and the party afterwards had lasted for hours.

"Oh, we danced and ate and drank," Darra said with a wide smile. "Your father even enjoyed himself, I think. A few of the older uncles made fools of themselves drinking too much, but that is usually the case at weddings." The older woman paused as she caught the flash of guilt that crossed Tris' face. "I've already been told about your wedding," she added, guessing at its source at her daughter hid in her cup of tea. "Yazmin told me of it, actually, and she did a credible job."

"It wasn't as festive as Ellwyn's," the weather witch said with a hint of apology.

"No," her mother agreed with a grin. "But that wouldn't have been you, would it? I'm actually surprised you had as large a party as you did. You both seem to prefer your lives very...private."

Tris flushed, and it was not feigned. "Sandry's idea," she admitted ruefully, cupping her chin in her hand. "I think it would kill her to see any of us married in what she feels is less than our due. It was easier to let her have her way than to argue, and I truly did not mind. The trappings and the trimmings weren't the important part... to me."

"It still amazes me the family you've built for yourself here," Darra mused as she poured herself another cup of tea. "Four great mages as your foster-mothers and mentors. A trader, a noble, and an ex-thief, who in turn are also a very powerful smith, stitch, and plant mage as your brother and sisters growing up. A Duke as an adopted Uncle and a glass dragon as your pet. Which, by the way, we will need to discuss later seeing as you've passed it on to your brother. However, logic tells me all of this should not be possible."

"I've given up on logic in regards to us," the weather-witch laughed ruefully. "And there's a great deal you don't know that would make it worse if you did. But despite the illogicality of it, they are my family."

"More so than I and your father." The words were not an accusation but a statement of fact. Despite that, Darra seemed surprised to hear them come from her mouth.

"Yes." Tris agreed, looking away. Shrugging uncomfortably, she continued, "Sometimes, I still feel like I hardly know you. The you I've had in my mind all these years wasn't someone I wanted to ever see again. I was wrong, about a lot of things, but I can't change the past. I can't pretend that you've been a part of the last decade of my life. I want you and my siblings and my father to be a part of things moving forwards, but I'm not going to ignore the people who have been here or make them any less a part of my life. I have six siblings, not four." Six, not seven, as she wondered whether she could even consider Briar just her brother ever again. "And three mothers and one father. Two extra uncles and a teacher who is also kind of like a father. I have a daughter, or at least she keeps telling me I do, and someday she wants to live with me again. And even if some of them aren't of my blood, I love them every bit as much as I could the rest."

"I understand," Darra said, her smile not quite making it to her eyes. "And so does your father. It may take your siblings longer, but they will come around as well." The city bells rang then, and Darra seemed surprised as she realized the hour. "I have to leave soon," she said as she drank the rest of her current cup. "Your father made plans for us this afternoon, but I have a request before I go."

"What is it?" Tris asked, wary as anyone who has had family make a request before might be.

The request, however, was not what she expected. "I wish to see your wedding dress," her mother said sheepishly. "Yazmin described it beautifully, but it is not the same as seeing it in person."

It only took a moment of thought for her to answer. "I would be honored to show you my wedding dress," she said, rising to her feet and giving her mother a weak smile. Abashed, she added, "I should have thought of this before. It is the one part of our wedding I can actually show you after the fact."

"I am a little surprised your sister did not insist on a portrait," the merchant wife admitted lightly. "They are quite popular with the nobles in Ninver."

"We refused," her daughter said shortly with a sniff, which was the truth. Both she and Briar had been adamant, and in the end, the noblewoman had capitulated. "That would have been a silly waste of money, and where would we have put it? Our room would be the only one to make sense, and I don't want me staring at myself while I sleep." And she was doubly glad now, for such an image would only have been a painful reminder of what could not be.

"You have a point," her mother conceded as they reached the top of the stairs, and Tris opened her bedroom door.

Darra was impressed by the room. It was large, larger than she had expected, with an enormous four-poster bed that took up almost one entire wall. The double doors on the far wall overlooked an impressive balcony with two rocking chairs. There were two full chests of drawers and a small table and set of chairs. There were also shelves built into the wall across from the bed, covered with books, items collected on travels, and one beautiful, ancient shakkan.

The furniture was of good quality, the wood stained dark and obviously heavy, but much of it used with knicks and scratches from years of ownership. It had a cared for feel to it, though, and Darra approved of the way everything appeared neat and tidy. She could see Sandry's influence in the drapes and the bedding—she could not imagine her daughter picking anything with that much lace, beautiful though it may be—and a few small embroidered wall-hangings. And Daja's in the worked-iron railing of the balcony and a few curiously shaped pieces of metal work about the room. The globe-looking copper apparatus in particular caught her attention, and she wondered what magical or arcane works it may be used for.

And, as she had hoped, she could see Briar's influence in the room as well. The shakkan was only the beginning. A man's shirt carelessly tossed over a chair. A stack of notes in a hand that wasn't Tris' on one bedside table. A few gardening tools on a tray, potted plants just outside the balcony door. A few curious stone statues that her husband would have loved to see. Any doubt she may have had that they shared a room was dispelled.

And still, she was not as certain as she wanted to be.

Tris did not waste time as her mother settled into one of the chairs, pulling a cedar chest from beneath the bed and carefully removing what it had been filled with. The petticoats came first, with the hose and silk cords that tied it all together close behind. And then came the dress.

Tris laid the grey silk gown gently on the bed, smoothing the fabric with care as she spread the sleeves and skirt so every detail could be seen and admired.

Darra did not stint in her praise. Every detail was declared beautiful and perfect, from the discrete embroidery to the flattering, tailored cut and the wistful look came back as the older woman held a hand to her mouth and stood back to admire it.

"It is so very different from the one your sister wore," she murmured, touching the silvery silk with a gentle fingertip. "I don't suppose there is a chance...?"

The weather witch had been half-expecting such a request, and her own guilt drove it home as a near command. How could she refuse such a simple thing? It may, she reasoned to herself, in some small way cancel out some of her debt the lies had accrued.

"I suppose..." she said, her hesitation purely that of uncertainty she could tie everything together herself. She had not watched when Sandry and Daja had helped on her wedding day, and in removing it had simply done so as speedily as possible their first night together as man and wife. Not for the reason her mother would assume, of course, but still...

"You will need help, of course," Darra said as she began to sort through the underthings. "This is quite a bit more elaborate than I was expecting."

"Trust Sandry to outdo herself," Tris said with a wry grin.

"Do you want my help?" her mother asked, unable to entirely hide her eagerness. Belatedly, she added, "Or should I go ask Briar-?"

"Your help is fine," the young woman said softly, looking away as another thought struck her.

This is the way it should have been. If she had actually gotten married. If someone had loved her enough to marry her for real. But were not dreams for the impossible? A dream world where she had reconciled with her family before now. Where when she wed, her siblings, all of them, would be there with all three mothers and one father and one teacher/father to celebrate with her. And if she was dreaming of the impossible, Briar waiting for her at the end of the aisle.

Fiercely, she fought the tears off as she changed into the base layer of the garment alone in the bathroom. Her mother waited patiently outside, and she completed the task quickly before washing her face in cold water and declaring herself ready.

Darra pretended not to notice the red eyes that indicated tears had been shed. She had cried too over her weddings things when she had been at odds with Valden. Such memories gave perspective, of what was important and what was not. She did not wish to cause her child pain, but perhaps reliving that most special of days would nudge her in the right direction.

"I have another story for you while I do these miles of laces," the older woman said as she got to work, "And it will hopefully put a smile on your face. Do you remember your Aunt Carline?" Tris only nodded; it kept the anger that welled in her chest hidden. The woman had been a viper and used her visiting niece as the target of her rage and acid wit. "Well, her daughter Lysette got married two mid-summers back, and it was an absolute disaster!"

The tale was a horrific montage of what happens when poor planning, a warring mother and mother-in-law and the worst of luck were locked in a room together for three weeks straight. The only thing that had gone right, as her mother told it, was the wedding night and that only because the bride and groom had snuck away and didn't tell anyone where they'd gone off to until three days later. The unfortunate fact was: none of the immediately family had noticed as they'd been too busy with their own civil war!

The story accomplished what she had intended, and Tris was actually smothering laughter a few times as she insisted her mother must be making it up when the trail of travesties continued. Darra adamantly insisted that every word was true and then, went on to describe even more terrific terrors that had been unleashed upon the guests who had gathered. Inadequate housing had been the least of the problems: the worst began with the dotty old uncle who often wandered about half-clothed regardless of who was about and ended with half the bedding being left out in the rain overnight and smelling horribly of mold. Pride had overruled sense more than once and servants given tasks that were impossible to carry out. The results had been disastrous.

Tris lifted her arms so her mother could slide the dress over her head, and then stood still as she began the final lacing up the back of the dress. It had been one of her favorite parts of the garment, on that day. The young woman ignored the mirror that sat in the corner, studiously avoiding her own reflection.

"I still think you made a great deal of that up," she told her companion as she stood very still so as to not disturb the lacing process.

"I wish I were," her mother replied ruefully. "It was a painfully uncomfortable two weeks for us, in many ways. Oh, we enjoyed visiting with the family, of course, and your father and I were lucky because we had friends who lived in the city who could afford to house us. We only stayed with the family one night before relocating to a house less chaotic and disordered. But my silk gown was never the same after the dogs ran through the main hall covered in mud up to their ears, and your father nearly had a fit when he saw the bridal contract. You know those are used almost as much as business dealings in deciding how good a family is in negotiation, and your uncle nearly gave his new son the house and everything in it to marry his daughter! Thankfully, everyone knows that branch of the family is a bit odd, so it didn't cause too many problems in the business."

Darra tugged the final knot tight, then stepped back with a broad, warm smile.

"There!"

-090-

Briar needed his shakkan. He had meant to bring it down with him that morning before breakfast, and had completely forgotten in his rush to avoid Tris. Now, he would pay for it by trying to sneak through the house. Even shielded from her, he could tell she was somewhere upstairs. She had mentioned in passing that her mother was visiting today, so hopefully they would be in her library or workroom. He couldn't think of a reason they would be in the bedroom, so if he was quick and silent, he could be in and out before they noticed he was anywhere nearby.

With that reasoning worked out to his satisfaction, he began to sneak up the stairs.

-090-

Tris stood still as Darra circled her, admiring the dress from every angle. She still kept her back to the mirror, refusing to look at herself in the beautiful garment.

"It is gorgeous," her mother breathed softly. "And so are you. Oh, and I _am_ sorry we missed it-" She cut off as the door opened slightly.

"Tris?" Briar called hesitantly from outside, obviously confused.

"We are in here," Darra answered as she went to open the door the rest of the way, revealing her daughter's husband standing stiffly. "I asked Tris to try on her wedding dress for me, and she was kind enough to do so. Isn't she beautiful?"

Briar's eyes went to Tris, drawn like a lodestone to iron, and could not look away. "Yes, she is," he agreed softly, unaware of his mother by marriage drawing him further into the room. "I, uh, I was just coming for my shakkan..." The words trailed away as memories of the wedding flooded in.

"I am going to be late, if I do not leave," Darra declared, striding over to her daughter with a grin and hugging her close. The weather witch jumped at the touch, having been studiously staring at the far wall. "You're welcome," her mother murmured in her ear before kissing her cheek and turning to go. "Briar, be a dear and help her out of that. I may have tied the laces too tightly for her to manage alone. It was lovely seeing you both, and we'll have dinner together soon. Goodbye!"

Tris only had time for one horrified glance before her mother was out the door and gleefully tripping down the stairs. Briar snapped back to the present at the same time, half turning with his mouth open to protest before realizing he couldn't. Glancing back at his wife, mouth agape, his eyes met hers, and they both froze.

Tris found her voice first, turning away from him as her face flushed a brilliant red. "She laced it bottom to top, didn't she?" she asked in a too calm voice.

"Yes," his mouth answered as his mind continued to panic. Still, his eyes wouldn't budge. The gown had been made for her and accentuated her form in a way that made his mouth go dry. He could remember the struggle of their wedding day, watching her walk down the aisle towards him. Perhaps, he should have realized then what would happen if he wasn't careful. Perhaps, it was too late even then.

His wife paused, then said quietly, still looking away, "If you will untie the top and loosen the first few rows, I should be able to manage the rest on my own."

His feet brought him closer, and Briar heard himself say. "No, I don't think you will." Blinking, his mind finally catching up with his body, he added, "They're laced so each row is knotted by the one below it."

Tris did turn at that, meeting his gaze again as she said too calmly, "What are you talking about?" It was the calm before the wave broke or the lightning struck. A calm that hid the destruction that would follow shortly.

"The laces," he said, crossing his arms uncomfortably over his chest as he looked away sharply. His fingers itched to trail along her shoulders, to touch her hair, and his eyes were just as bad. "The way they are tied...they won't loosen up after I undo the top. Each row will need to be pulled free by hand, and if you don't pull the right one it will probably knot up even worse." She walked past him to the mirror to look for herself, and he added absently, "It's rather pretty, actually."

The angle was enough for the weather witch to see the truth for herself, but not enough for her to actually attempt to undo the web-like lacing. That was assuming, of course, that she could even get her arms to reach the laces in the first place. Taking a deep breath, she was going to ask for his shears. The thought of cutting even the silk cords, though, made her throat close tight. It was the dress she had married him in. It was, in a way, a symbol of his love for her. Not the love she wanted, but love just the same. Finally, she amended her words to, "Please just untie the back. I will figure out the rest, but I cannot ruin the dress. Sandry would never forgive me." The last was tacked on as an afterthought, the only reason she could think to give without outright lying to him.

Quietly, Briar agreed and uncrossed his arms as he stepped closer. Tris locked her arms over her stomach and waited. She could see him in the mirror, watching from the corner of her eye as his face became set with determination. His hands lifted to the top of the dress and stopped, hovering inches from her skin.

In that moment, the young man realized he could not undo those laces and step away again. Not without doing something. Or saying something. Not without hurting her more in the end. He had to put a stop to this, once and for all.

His wife watched, ice filling her stomach, as his hands dropped to his sides. Stepping away, he rubbed his palms on his shirt as though wiping away something unclean.

"I can't."

Tris flinched as though struck, and Briar felt like the blow had landed on him instead.

"Why?" she asked hoarsely. "Is it that badly knotted?" She thought it wasn't, but she hoped she was wrong. She hoped it wasn't because of her.

"No, I..." Abruptly, he swallowed, taking another step further away. "I just can't," he ground out between clenched teeth, eyes glued to the floor. His body was rigid, rooted in place as though he intended to move no more.

Anger burned away the ice, replacing it with liquid fire. Oh, it hurt, but it also pushed her to act. Slowly, she turned to face him, and the hurt and reproach in her eyes seared him to the core. "Are you really that disgusted with me that you can't even do this one small thing?" she asked, the words razor sharp. "I know that I lied to you, that I kept things from you. I'm sorry. I don't know what else-" Words cut off as her throat swelled with tears. Blinking fiercely, she willed them away and continued in only a slightly milder tone, "Please. I'm not asking for-...can you just undo the laces and leave? It's a gift from _Sandry_..."

"I can't do that." His arms crossed over his chest now, an impenetrable barrier much like the shields he had drawn across his mind. The rigidity strained in his posture, a tree ready to burst from the ice invading it. "It's not you; it's me." Those words were tagged on reluctantly, an explanation that really wasn't.

The liquid fire boiled anew, and she hissed, " _What's_ not you? Briar, I don't-"

"I can't do this anymore!" Control evaporated, the words exploding out of his mouth unintentionally, and Briar found that, with the dam burst, there was no stopping the flood.

"Can't do what?" was all his angry and frustrated wife had time to say before he charged onwards at nearly a shout.

"I can't...pretend to be married to you anymore. Sleep next to you anymore. I can't do it!" Words forming on Tris' lips were washed away as he went on rapidly, his arms hugged tightly to his chest as his feet began to pace. "I just...I...I can't keep it straight in my head, Tris. I can't...pretend to love you like that. I'm-...I'm getting too attached. It's not your fault, you did nothing wrong. It's mine. But I can't let it keep going because...I'm going to hurt you. I don't treat you like you deserve. You should have someone who doesn't constantly say the wrong thing. Who...who wasn't so blind that they looked past how amazing you are for three solid years. Who doesn't settle for easy because something real takes patience and work and time but is worth every second of it in the end. Who is going to see how beautiful you are inside and out and know one is just as important as the other." The floodwaters waned, their fury spent as he stopped his pacing, eyes downcast. "You deserve better than me," he said softly, a simple declaration of truth. "So I have to stop doing this, or I won't stop loving you."

Silence stretched, and Briar wasn't sure what his wife was going to do. The truth was out, and he felt lighter for it. Now, he had to deal with whatever came next. It could not be harder, he thought, than these last few weeks. He expected maybe anger that he had dared think of her that way. Or relief that she could finally understand why he was acting out of his mind. Disgust, perhaps, or annoyance.

Tris was poleaxed. The words had rushed past her, drowning out her ability to make sense of what he was saying as she struggled in the torrential current. Hurt her? Why was he talking about hurting her? He hadn't...well, not since before Namorn, and that had been different. He had been soul-scarred, and...he thought she was amazing? Why did that mean he couldn't-? Beautiful? Red suffused her cheeks, then drained away just as quickly as his final sentence hammered home.

Or I won't stop loving you.

Won't stop loving you.

Loving you.

A prickle along his neck made Briar look up, and he panicked at the tears streaming down her still face. Crying? Why was she crying? He hadn't meant to make her cry! Her chest heaved with a sob, and he immediately dug a clean kerchief from his pocket, stepping forward hurriedly to put it in her hand. "Oh no, oh no no no...Don't cry. Please don't cry. I'm so stupid. I shouldn't-...see? I'm trying _not_ to hurt you, and I still can't-"

His hand touched hers, and she stepped into his arms, wrapping her own tightly about his chest. The young man froze, unable to pull away as he felt his face warm. Her body pressed against his set his heart racing, and he longed to pull her closer still. To bury his face in her hair, then draw her face up to his and-

"Tris," he said in a near whisper. "Please stop."

"No." The word was muffled against his chest, and he shivered at the feel of her breath through his thin work shirt.

"I hurt you," he said numbly, refusing to look down at her as he felt his will threaten to crumble beneath him. He could smell her, the oil in her hair and the soap she used in the morning and the scent of rain and wind that always seemed to hang about her. "I'm so sorry for hurting you. But please let go."

"Yes," she agreed, nodding slightly and still unable to look at his face. "You did, but I'm not letting you go." Taking a deep breath, fingers locked together as though she feared he may try to push her away, she continued raggedly around the tears that still streamed down her face, "I love you. I didn't see it at first, but I do. I've wanted to tell you, kicked myself over lost opportunities: I just didn't know how. You are the best man I know. You are generous and intelligent. You respect women, and you accept everyone as they are. And I trust you, with everything." Her short laugh was more of a hiccup, but she squeezed him tighter despite the ache in her arms. "Do you still want me to let go?

"No." The arms he wrapped around her were gentle, but they held her as though they never meant to let go. "You're sure this is what you want?" he asked gruffly, head bending to press his forehead against hers as one hand cradled her cheek. "I'm probably going to be stupid again, eventually. I'll say things I don't mean and...I might always be a little broken inside."

"Yes," she breathed, meeting his eyes for the first time and feeling her heart thrum in her chest. "I'll still lose my temper sometimes. I might accidentally ignore you for a book. And...I might lose control one day. Are you sure this is what _you_ want?"

Lips descending to hers, he said, "Yes."

Tris was untutored in this matter, but she was a quick study. With confidence came boldness, and his lips smiled against hers as she snaked her arms about his neck to pull him closer still. Was this a dream, he wondered in a daze. But no, he could never imagine Tris pulling away in frustration to push him into a chair. With his wife now seated in his lap, their heads were even, and he eagerly took advantage of the new position to pull her even closer.

Sometime later, they sat together, Tris with her head resting on his shoulder and Briar running one hand down along her spine as the other twined with both of hers on his chest. At some point, mental shields had come down, and he could feel the contentment and joy that radiated along their bond. His smile widened at it, and he could feel her do the same in turn. Absently, he noticed she was barefoot, and suddenly, the move to the chair made more sense. He was wearing his thick work boots, to protect his feet in case of a spill in his workroom. She had probably been on tiptoes to reach him at first, and that would have been tiring with as much shifting as they'd been doing. His wife wasn't one to suffer inconveniences that could be avoided.

"Tris?" he asked, leaning his head against hers.

"Mmm?" The reply sounded distant, and he grinned.

"Can you still speak?" he went on, unable to hide his smugness.

"Mmm..." There was an edge of annoyance now, and one hand snaked free of his to pinch his stomach warningly. So he decided to pinch her bottom.

"Briar!" Tris cried, sitting up abruptly to give him an offended scowl. It wasn't very convincing, and he could tell it was more out of habit than anything else.

Briar laughed, bringing his hand back up to her spine as he said teasingly, "There you are. I thought maybe you'd gotten lost somewhere."

"I never left," she said tartly, unable to maintain her frown against his warm smile. That just made his smile widen all the more, and she huffed in annoyance.

"Good because I don't intend to ever let you leave me again," he told her, pressing his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry I thought staying away was going to fix things. I'm sorry I couldn't believe you would ever love me as much as I loved you."

"I think this blame goes both ways," she told him dryly. "I will only forgive you if you forgive me too."

"I do."

Tris was the one to lean in first this time, and Briar enjoyed letting her explore as they settled into a more sedate pace. It was like dessert, she thought as she ran one hand through his hair. You could have it all at once, or nibble at it a little at a time. She shivered as he pulled away to press his lips to her neck, and pure smugness rose to the surface of his mind once more.

He was going to be insufferable for weeks, she mused to herself. She decided she didn't mind in the least.

When they drew apart this time, Tris to lean against his chest and inhale the green-garden scent of him and Briar to bask in the feel of her weight against him, neither could stop smiling. There was something prickling Tris' sensitive nose, though, and she frowned as she said, "Carris seed oil?"

"Lakik's teeth!" Briar almost jumped out of his skin, nearly dumping Tris to the floor in the process. He managed to steady them both before giving her a sheepish grin. "Sorry, but I need to go. I left things out in my workroom, and I'm not sure how long it's been, but hopefully, it's not all ruined..." His wince showed how costly that mistake could be.

"Go," Tris said, getting up and shaking out her skirts to hide the flush that suddenly crept up her face. She hadn't meant to keep him that long. Or to sit in his lap like that. Of course, he hadn't seemed to mind. Distracted, she didn't notice when he stood and crossed to her in two quick steps, capturing her lips with his in a fierce kiss.

"I'll hurry," he promised as he hugged her to his chest, then let go and moved to the door. "It won't take me but a minute!"

"I'll come down too," she called after him, "I think we missed lunch." Her knees trembled enough that she grabbed convulsively at the bedpost behind her. Tris was glad Briar was out of the room already. She didn't think she'd ever have lived down going that weak in the knees over a simple kiss. The city bells went off, chiming the third hour.

"Meet you in the kitchen, then!"

Tris didn't respond, too busy trying to steady herself as everything came crashing in once more.

He loved her.

The memory of his kiss sent a shiver down her spine, and she sighed as she felt her face flush again. She wanted to follow him to his workshop and kiss him again. Instead she stood, smoothing her wedding dress with careful hands and walking down stairs to make tea. She wasn't sure she would be able to eat, her stomach felt like it was full of butterflies and snakes wrestling for space. But Briar was always hungry, and skipping meals usually made her irritable and tired. She didn't want to be irritable or tired, so she resolved to eat something small.

 _Miss me yet?_

The brush of his mind against hers made her smile, and she could tell he was smiling too.

 _Aren't you supposed to be working?_ She replied, a dry edge to her voice as she reached the top of the stairs.

 _I can work and talk at the same time. You haven't answered my question. Miss me yet?_

Tris sensed for the first time the nervous and hopeful edge to his voice. Hopeful that she wanted to be with him as he did with her, and nervous that she would actually be relieved that he was gone. _Yes,_ she said, imparting all the reassurance she could in that single world. Nervousness was replaced by anticipation, and her steps quickened down the stairs.

 _You can come to my work room_ he suggested, a thought skittering by as he did. It involved her seated on his table and didn't seem to involve much work. _Keep me company...?_

She was tempted but shook her head, even if he couldn't see it. _Finish your work. I will be in the kitchen making dinner._

 _Will you keep talking to me at least?_ His mental voice was wheedling now, like a child bargaining for a half a cookie, if he couldn't have a whole.

 _What do you want to talk about?_ She didn't bother to hide her amusement, and he could probably tell she wanted just as badly to talk about him. However, the thoughts currently darting through her mind were not something she wanted to put voice to just yet.

 _We could talk about how convincing your parents now has a whole new range of possibilities._ With his words came some ideas, all of which amounted to him being caught with her in compromising situations. _That would be pretty convincing..._ His favorites all involved the garden.

 _No_ , she said firmly.

Briar paused, then asked, _No to the idea or no to the garden?_

 _No to the idea,_ she clarified firmly. She had no desire to have that story a part of her family history. After all, she actually wanted to remain in contact with them now. Tris had no intention of giving her parents embarrassing tales to pass on to siblings she hadn't met yet.

 _Then you would actually...?_ He perked up with interest, and the weather witch immediately realized her mistake. Of course, on second thought, she wasn't immediately opposed to...making use of the garden. There were wards that could be laid to warn them of anyone approaching, and it was _his_ garden. Something about it made her stomach jump, but in a good way.

 _I will think about it,_ was all she said, but she felt his hope increase.

 _I don't suppose you'd let me persuade you..._ She didn't respond but could feel his contentment to wait radiate through their bond. _Years_ , he said quietly and the warmth that flowed to her brought a flush to Tris' face. _Years and years and years to convince you if I have to. Years to try new things, to explore together_. And he didn't mean just pillow games, either. Tris watched as he thought about sharing books together in bed, her beside him in the garden, running the market stall together. _We're staying married, right?_ The question was abrupt, and hesitation could be felt behind it.

 _I had hoped so_ , Tris admitted shyly. _It seemed silly not to._

 _Sensible, and I agree._ Briar grinned to himself and wondered if Sandry and Daja would still consider her sensible after this. Which reminded him that they would first have to be told. _By the way, have you thought about how we're telling the girls?_

 _Daja and Sandry?_ His wife paused, and he could tell she was unsure when she finally said, _I...don't know. Do we have to tell them immediately?_

Briar understood, and asked, _It's still too new?_

 _Exactly._ Relief replaced worry along the bond, and he decided waiting a bit wouldn't hurt anything. Besides, there was no law that said they had to tell anyone. It was their business and not anyone else's.

 _Of course, there would be a really easy way to tell them,_ he commented with a wicked grin. Turn about was entirely fair play. _Just not put up any shields tonight._

He had expected her to be indignant or annoyed or maybe even amused. Briar hadn't expected her to go entirely still in his mind.

 _Tris?_ When she didn't immediately respond, he got alarmed enough to rise from his stool and find her. _Tris, are you ok?_

 _I'm fine,_ she finally answered as he found her in the kitchen, standing by the counter with her hands clutching a dishcloth at her waist. "I'm...I'm alright."

"You don't look alright," he told her frankly, reaching for her with one hand. Her marked decision not to reach for him in turn made him pause. "Tris?" he asked more softly, feeling his heart squeeze to a stop in his chest.

His wife wouldn't meet his gaze, and her cheeks flashed from red to white and back again. "I just..I didn't realize..."

"Didn't realize what?" Briar tried to remain calm, but it was hard as he felt her panic and fear flaring high.

Her words came in a rushed jumble, making little sense. "That you would expect...I mean, you said we had so much time, that there's no rush."

"Tris, I don't understand." He was close to begging as he added, "Please, I need you to explain-!"

"I'm not ready!" Tris cried, covering her face with her hands.

"Ready for _what_?" he demanded, on the edge of losing his mind.

"To... _sleep_ with you!" Everything came to a halt with those words ringing between them. Tris' face settled on red, fully committed to a brilliant shade. Breathing heavily, she added more meekly, "I didn't think you would expect me to-...I mean not right away. Eventually, yes, but not _immediately_..."

"Why would you think that?" Briar broke in, clearly confused. "That I expect that, I mean."

The look his wife gave him was bursting with frustration. "You just said, leave the shield down tonight!"

"I meant when I take off your dress!" In retrospect, Briar admitted he had probably been too vague. It had been obvious to him, but he hadn't shared the full details of his thoughts with her. Hearing the words out in the open, though, made his own face flame as brightly as hers. "I mean, helping with the ties. I hoped there might be some kissing and some cuddles...that was it. I wouldn't _object_ if you wanted to, but I wasn't _expecting_ it." Clearing his throat, the plant mage added in a lower voice, "When it happens it...happens."

"Oh." Tris was sure if her face turned any more red it would burst into flame and was equally certain her face was in the process of doing just that as mortification filled her gut.

"Are you sure you want to pick me?" Briar asked as she came to him, wrapping her arms tightly about his chest and pressing her face against it. Maybe the shame would be easier to bear if he couldn't see her face. "I really do seem to be good at messing this up."

"I'm fairly sure that one was my fault," she said into his shirt, vainly wishing her blush to go away.

"Nope, I am taking partial credit." The kiss was meant to distract her, but he got a bit lost himself after a moment. The pot boiling over on the stove top got their attention, and Tris sheepishly bustled over to pull it off and be sure the soup hadn't burned.

"Go on," she said over her shoulder. "Finish up. The soup will be ready soon."

He obeyed with a grin, and Tris couldn't help thinking to herself that Yazmin was going to have a field day when she found out-

 _Yazmin is going to what?_ The weather witch jumped, nearly spilling the saved soup. She had forgotten he was still listening.

 _She will probably find this funny,_ she explained as she moved the pot to a cooler part of the stove and checked on the bread heating below. It, thankfully, had not burned either.

 _Were you planning on telling her?_ Briar was curious: he hadn't thought Tris would be the type to discuss their business much with others.

 _She will probably ask._ The clarification didn't help much and was delivered dryly.

 _Why?_

His wife paused, and he sensed an inward struggle of some kind. _She has been...helping me. Some._

 _Helping...?_

Tris found herself relating the dancer's first visit after the ball, from her unexpected arrival to her unforeseen pronouncement. _She was afraid I was going to break your heart._ One couldn't quite laugh with one's mind, but he sensed her amusement nonetheless. _She's quite fond of you, actually._

 _What advice did she give you?_ His tone was too casual, he knew, but it was the best he could manage through his surprise.

Tris grinned to herself as she said, _I don't think I'm going to tell you. It was good advice, though._

The plant mage wanted to press for more details but decided he had time. After all, there were still things to settle between them, whatever advice Yazmin had given could wait. _I will have to thank her, then._

 _Keep dancing the Hangleman, it will probably be thanks enough,_ she informed him, and he had a feeling she counted it no loss to tell him so.

 _Which reminds me, do you think you might ever give it a try?_ The inquiry was lightly made, but the plant mage waited eagerly for her response.

 _The Hangleman? At the ball? Gods, no._ Tris snorted to herself in disbelief. If that was another dream of his, that one would have to go unfulfilled. She was a passable dancer, but she was not making a fool of herself like that for him. Not that she hadn't already, but at least there had been no witnesses.

 _Not at the ball,_ he amended quickly. _Here. Like, maybe the next time you go dancing in the rain_. She caught a glimpse of his memory and flushed again. She had forgotten how short that dress had become... _I don't mind it_ , Briar said, and she could have sworn she heard him chuckling two rooms away. _I like the way it looks on you._

Tris was pretty sure she was never going to stop blushing ever again. She was also inordinately pleased. _Maybe,_ she said after a while, checking the soup as she did. _If you are particularly persuasive._

 _I'm good at persuasive._

 _I know._

 _Corking the last bottles now,_ he declared a moment later, and Tris started spooning soup into the bowls.

 _We will eat in the kitchen._

Briar entered just as she set the bowls on the table, and swooped in for a quick kiss as he did. "That smells good," he said as he pulled the two chairs closer together.

"It's just soup and some warmed bread," his wife protested as he helped her with her seat.

His response was quick and delivered with a grin. "Yes, but you made it, so it's going to be delicious soup and warm bread."

Tris tried to pretend she wasn't blushing and said, "You had better be careful, or I am going to expect compliments like that all the time."

His arm brushing hers, he winked, "Good because you deserve them."

Briar had always been a flirt, but Tris had never been on the receiving end of so much of it at once. She had not realized the restraint he had exercised until that restraint was gone. After a particular compliment on how much he liked her lips made her actually put down her spoon and close her eyes as her face rivaled the fire for heat, he asked, "Too much?" His voice and eyes were teasing, but he was serious too. He would stop, if she asked him too.

"It's more like 'too soon'," she told him with a sigh. "I'm not...I thought you _were_ flirting with me, before. I had almost gotten used to that."

"I was," he agreed. "Lightly. That's public flirting, meant for when other people can hear." Pausing for thought, he added a moment later, "Unless you want me to tell you where other people can hear that your lips-"

"No," she said quickly, and his smile grew. "No, I just...I still have a hard time believing you mean any of it when talking about me. It's a bit overwhelming."

"Tris," he said carefully, catching her hand and eyes with his as he drew closer. "I mean every word. I'm not just paying you compliments, I'm telling the truth. I thought you knew that."

"I do," she insisted, looking away guiltily. "I just don't always agree with you."

"So you believe that I mean it," he said dryly. "That I think it's true. But that you don't think it is. Why are you so set against believing you're beautiful? And desirable?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said sharply. "Something about twenty years of being told otherwise comes to mind. Words people use to describe me include fat, irritable, crabby, tubby, spotty-faced and fire-haired. Also difficult, cantankerous, sarcastic, caustic and cursed with lightning. Beautiful and desirable have never been on the list."

"They obviously didn't know what they were talking about," he said mildly, eating his last bite of soup. "Although, I have to say from personal experience, males tend to be idiots for awhile growing up, so that probably hasn't helped."

"I happen to know for a fact not all the people who used those words were young men," she countered, falling into the comfortable pattern of a debate.

"Then they were idiots that never grew up," he replied, as though that was the final answer and there was nothing more to be said.

"Briar, that's not a rebuttal," she told him as he finished his bread and tea.

"I know," he admitted with a grin. "But that doesn't make it false. I guess I will just have to make it my first goal to have you truly believe me when I pay you a compliment."

"First goal?"

"I have several in mind already. Getting you to dance the Hangleman in the rain with me. Thoroughly monopolizing you at another ball. Taking a trip to meet your family in Ninver and charming them all thoroughly. Garden and seaside shenanigans." Briar shrugged as though to say 'in due time'. "Either way, the first one will be making you believe compliments."

"How are you going to do that?" she asked, intrigued despite her mind still being stuck on 'garden and seaside shenanigans'. Did he really think he was going to...entice her into anything out in the open like that? Her mind turned that thought over once, and she admitted ruefully to herself that, yes, he might.

"I don't know yet." Briar stood and gathered up the bowls and cups when she indicated she was also finished. Everything was deposited in the sink for later cleaning. "But I will find a way. Are you ready to get out of that dress?"

Tris glanced down at the silk gown, surprised she had forgotten she was wearing it.

"Yes," she agreed, standing and adjusting the long skirt as she began to walk. It was only the fifth bell now. If he was able to get the knots out quickly, they would still have time to talk and...do other things before bed. And even if this were a Sandry dress and nearly impervious to harm aside from cutting it in pieces, she felt she had risked it enough for one day.

"Then, if I may escort m'lady?" The bow was courtly enough for a ball, and she suppressed a smile as she accepted the proffered arm. They made their way upstairs, chatting about the cook's grand-baby and how the birth day had gone. No news was good news, hopefully. At the door to their bedroom, Tris paused. She remembered a night so many weeks ago, when they had ascended the stairs together, and she had worn this dress.

"Do you trust me?" Briar asked, sensing her hesitation.

"Always," she told him with a small smile.

They stepped into their room together.

-090-

"Valden?"

The merchant opened his eyes, glancing down at his wife who was curled next to him on their bed. "You still want to talk?" he asked, surprised he hadn't managed to wear her out enough to put whatever her news was off until the morning. They had only moments together since she had joined him for a business luncheon that afternoon, and upon arriving at Master Niko's home, he had been a little too preoccupied with letting her know exactly how much her research into the local market for certain goods had been appreciated.

"I think you will want to hear this," she told him, sitting up slightly with a wide smile.

He matched her smile and said jovially, "Good news, then? Share on!"

"I believe them."

It took Valden a moment to process what his wife meant, brows rising in disbelief. "Really?" he asked, voice soft. "What brought this on?"

"They are fighting," she admitted, her smile faltering, "which is not something to be hoped for, I know. But you should have seen them! Tris refused to tell me what it was, but she could not hide that all was not well. The pain was the sort caused by a wounded heart, and only love allows a heart to be hurt that deeply. And then I convinced Tris to try her wedding dress on for me, and Briar walked in at just the right moment. If he was not hip deep in memories of their wedding day just seeing her in that beautiful gown, then I don't know young men. I believe them, Valden. All our suspicions I believe came from their suspicions of us, which, as we now know, were well-founded. We have proven not to be monsters, and they have proven to be in love. He is a good match for her, and we can leave her here knowing she is among those who love her best."

Her husband lay silently beside her, turning over her words carefully as he weighed and measured them against the last almost two moons.

"I agree," he said after a time, his smile matching her own. "And it lightens my heart to say so. We will have to get things in order for this particular ending. It was one we did not come prepared for, and I have some thoughts as to how to best handle it."

"I think those can wait for the morning," his wife said as she drew close once again. "I am in a mood to celebrate… again."

Valden, being the wise husband that he was, did not argue.

-090-

Author's Notes:

So. On that lovely note...it may be two weeks before your next chapter is up. The reason being, I am preparing to take a last minute trip several hours away. My laptop is not coming with me, as flying is part of the equation and we're traveling very, very light. And while the chapter is technically ready, what is really going to get in the way is being gone half a week will mean I will be fairly swamped with work upon my return. I don't like posting without giving the chapter a good read through. Just in case. And there may not be time so this is my compromise:

IF there is no chapter next Friday, there will be one posted sometime before the following Friday. When will that be? Hard to say. The week after I return contains many events that happen only once a year (school starting again!) and as a result I will be almost as busy as I will be this coming week. Just...home while being busy, and better able to take advantage of unexpected periods of time to myself.

Thanks to all the wonderful reviews as always. And please review this chapter before you go! It'll be motivation to get next week's chapter up on time, or nearly so. *hinthint*

Until next time,

~CB~


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Tris woke the next morning to the familiar feeling of Briar wrapped around her. It only took a moment to remember why she was in her shift and not her neck-to-floor nightgown. He murmured as she shifted on her pillow, sitting up to snag her glasses from the side table. Grumbling, the sleeping plant mage pulled her back to his bare chest. She let him and turned with the movement, so she could see his face as he opened his eyes.

Briar blinked muzzily for a moment, and the weather witch watched as pleasure, panic and then relief ran through his eyes as he met her gaze. She wasn't the only one not quite used to how things had changed, then. "Good morning, beautiful," he told her as he scooted over for a soft, slow kiss. His wife met him halfway, reveling in the feel of skin against skin as his arms snaked about her to draw her closer still. A yawn forced him to break it off early, though, and he grinned sheepishly as he settled back beside her, heads close together. "Wife," he said suddenly, his grin growing wider still.

"What?" Tris asked as he suppressed a chuckle.

"You are 'Mistress Moss', my wife," he replied as he ran one hand through her tangle of curls. "Which means so much more than it did yesterday, and for some reason, I can't stop smiling just thinking about it."

"What does it mean that it didn't yesterday?" she asked as she gently traced one finger along his arm. Tris could feel her face heating just from the sensation of his warm skin under the pads of her fingers, but somehow, that did not seem as embarrassing as it once would have.

"It means that I am the only one that ever gets to wake up to these amazing curls, even if it doesn't happen that often," he said as he tugged one gently. "It means I have a partner and not just a friend. It means I get a lifetime to be with you." Briar's grin was infectious, and she grinned back.

"Will every night be as exciting as last night?" she asked innocently, unable to completely hide the laughter in her eyes.

"I hope not," he sighed, looking offended when she snickered. "That wasn't my fault!"

"Three solid _bells_ of sitting there," she went on as his face reddened, her snickers growing into cackles. "It takes a lot of the enjoyment out of it when each knot took you nearly a quarter-bell to undo." It probably should have occurred to one of them that knots would settle with time, and especially after the rather...vigorous bout of kissing that had taken most of the afternoon. It hadn't. Briar nearly had taken a knife to the cords at that point, but something about it being a piece of 'their' wedding had stopped him. Someday, it would probably even be funny. But for right now...

"That's it!" Her shift did nothing to protect her from his fingers, and she squirmed and thrashed as he tickled her mercilessly along her sides. "Teasing woman-!" Her kick didn't send him over the edge of the bed this time, but it did give her space to breath as she tried to calm her racing heart. Briar stopped, sitting up and looking at her speculatively as he rubbed his side. The covers had pushed back in the struggle, and he could see far more than would normally be available. Tris blushed.

"Do you know how pretty you are when you blush?" he asked as his grin softened into a smile.

"I hope so, I imagine I will be doing it a lot for awhile," she said dryly, forcing herself not to snatch the covers back up to her chin. She did allow herself to cross her arms over her chest. It wasn't much, but it helped her instinctive panic subside. Somehow, with only a faint glow from the moon providing light, wearing only her shift hadn't seemed all that daring. Now, with the full sun pouring in the open windows, she felt horribly exposed.

"It's one of my favorite things about you," he said as he slid over next to her, arms snaking about her waist as he planted a kiss on one reddened cheek.

"There seem to be a lot of those," she huffed but leaned into his embrace, enjoying his warmth.

"I can't help there's just so many wonderful things about you," Briar murmured, his focus elsewhere as he continued a line of kisses down her neck. His stomach growled, loud enough that they both paused, and he groaned, "I don't want to get up."

"Why not?" she asked, unable to believe there was anything he considered more important than food.

Her husband's sigh was full of regret as he said, "Because then we'll put on clothes, and I don't want to wait until tonight to get back in this bed with you."

Tris found herself unable to disagree. Exposed as she felt, putting more barriers between herself and him was not a pleasant thought. Her stomach reminded her that he was not the only one hungry, though, and cuddling and kisses wouldn't be as fun with a headache. "I agree," she heard herself say softly, "But...if you get up now you could lace me into my corset and button the back of my dress for me."

"Which is like wrapping a present I get to open later," he added, considering the idea before nodding quickly. "I like the way your mind works."

Briar did lace the back of her corset and button up her dress. Tris contented herself with only smoothing his collar. It seemed very unfair that men's clothes were so much simpler than women's. The day promised to be warm, so she had kept her dress to a minimum, but she still wore her undergarments, shift, corset, light petticoats, stockings and a dress. Briar had only his short pants, trousers and a loose shirt. She did fix the hairs on the left side of his face that never laid flat in the morning. He never seemed to notice or care, but it had always bothered her when she saw them. Her husband offered no protest and took the opportunity to kiss her soundly until she was done.

"Why?" she asked him, holding on his arms a moment later to steady herself. His kisses still made her knees feel weak. She rather hoped that never changed, inconvenient it might be.

"Because why not," was his only reply. Offering his arm, he added, "Shall we?"

Tris allowed herself to be escorted down the stairs, listening as Briar went through the work he had to finish this morning. It was all related to his projects from the day before, distillations and other things that had to be checked or separated into glass bottles for sale. He would glance at her every few moments, a grin blooming on his face. She always blushed when he did but couldn't help smiling back.

Breakfast was tea and fruit with some leftover bread. The weather witch's senses told her it would be another hot day today, but that the next would be a touch cooler. She would wait until then to stoke the oven coals into life for some baking. Even with her ability to bring a breeze through the room, compounding the heat of the stove and the fireplace with a hot day was not worth the effort for fresh scones or cooked meat.

"I'll be done soon," Briar said as he finished devouring his meal and took his tea with him. Dropping a kiss on her cheek, he added, "Promise."

Tris tried to ignore the foolish grin on her face as she watched him leave. She knew it was possible for women to ogle men, as her eyes lingered on his broad back and strong shoulders; she just had not supposed she would. It still felt like a dream, one from which she hoped she never woke.

Focus, she told herself, before she lost herself in a daydream about how those shoulders had felt under her hands last night as he'd- no, she told herself firmly. That didn't stop her face from heating again. Not right now.

She cleaned up their small breakfast, and only had to draw herself back to the present twice when the thought of his lips on hers or how much she had enjoyed sitting in his lap distracted her from the task in front of her. Dishes were washed, including the ones from the night before, and she checked over what was left in the larder for meals. She had several options, but none of it seemed appealing, and she really didn't want to do any real baking or cooking until the weather turned the next day.

Briar might have an idea, she reasoned as she found her steps turning towards his workroom. He liked simple foods, maybe there was something he was wanting that wouldn't involve heating the kitchen like a boiler.

She was just going to ask him what he wanted for lunch, she told herself as she opened the wooden door. He was just two rooms away, and it was silly to use their bond when her legs worked perfectly fine. The fact that she couldn't kiss him through the bond had nothing to do with it.

Briar looked up as she entered, a smile stretching his face as his eyes caught hers.

"Couldn't stay away?" he asked as she came to lean against his table within arm's reach.

"I just wanted to know what your thoughts on lunch and dinner were," she said, trying to appear casual as she explained, "It's going to be very hot today; I would rather not spend it over the oven or fireplace, unless I have to."

"Hmm." Briar reached for her hand, and Tris responded by giving it to him. She didn't expect him to pull her into his lap. The stool he was perched on wasn't as comfortable as the chair upstairs, but she didn't complain. "Lunch," he said as he planted a kiss on her neck. "...are you on the menu?"

"N-no," she said, trying to sound firm as she felt him laugh against her skin.

"Are you sure?" he asked softly, taking full advantage of their position to explore her neck further.

"Mmm.." She pulled his head up to plant her lips on his, and he was eager to comply. When Tris pulled away, he was grinning foolishly again. "I am sure that I am not on the menu," she told him as she held his head firmly in her hands, so he could not go wandering off again. "On the menu are things you can actually eat."

Briar's foolish grin transformed instantly into one full of mischief, and Tris decided not to discover his thoughts as they would probably take them further away from the the topic at hand. When she didn't take the bait, Briar sighed and said in the most serious voice he could manage, "How do you make practicality attractive? I've never met anyone else who could do that."

"Is it another one of your favorites?" she asked dryly as she let go of his face.

Briar nodded, as he said quite seriously, "Yes, I think it is."

Tris rolled her eyes, and went on. "Right, and for lunch?"

"Pies," he decided, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his purse. "We'll run down to the shop two streets over and pick up a meat, a vegetable and a fruit. That's lunch and dinner together, and it will keep well in the oven if Daja makes it in late. If she doesn't, we can finish them tomorrow. And-" He pulled her in for another kiss, a short one this time that seemed a promise for later. "It leaves us most of the day together."

"Don't you have things you need to do?" she asked, hating how breathless she sounded. In truth, she had her own work waiting upstairs, but somehow, it seemed a good deal less important than the man holding her at the moment.

"Yes," he admitted reluctantly, his face turning serious for once as he added, "But...Daja will be back tonight or tomorrow. Then the servants a few days after that. At which point, quiet moments where I don't have to worry about someone barging in on us are going to be a lot harder to find. And we're both going to be busy with work. Let's take today for us." He pulled her down for another kiss that left her feeling robbed of air, and he added, "Besides, I'm selfish. I don't want anyone else to see the face you make when I-"

"I'd say it's a little late for that."

The stool toppled as the pair jumped, and Briar's attempt to catch himself on the counter failed miserably as their foreheads cracked painfully together.

"Lakik's teeth!"

"Prathmuni bless it!"

Rosethorn couldn't help herself as she stared at the pair sprawled on the floor in an undignified heap. She laughed. She laughed until tears streamed down her face, until her sides ached, until she began to do the gasping hiccup that made Briar right the stool so she could sit and Tris fetch her a cup of water to calm the cough.

"Oh, Mila bless me," Rosethorn gasped when she finally regained control of herself. She wiped at her face with the handkerchief Briar handed her, and gave the cup back to Tris. "I don't think I've laughed that hard in years..."

"You nearly did yourself in," Briar retorted in concerned annoyance, standing beside his wife who was torn between irritation and embarrassment. "Lark would have killed me I'd put you in the grave from laughing."

"Oh, trust me boy, she'd have almost laughed herself to death if she'd seen your face." Rosethorn chuckled again, but it was controlled this time. "Besides, it might have been a long time coming but I say I owed you at least one uncomfortable interruption, Tris."

"I wasn't _trying_ to interrupt anything," Tris retorted in a low grumble as her blush deepened.

Briar didn't understand any of that, but decided it could wait for later as he said, "So...hi. What are you doing here?"

"Coming to check on you two," Rosethorn replied as she stood, still chuckling and wiping at her face. "Obviously, I needn't have bothered. Lark is going to be over the moon when I tell her. What did the girls say?" When there was no reply, the dedicate looked up to find them both in various states of guilt. "You haven't told them?" she asked, clearly surprised.

"There really hasn't been a chance," Briar replied as he slid an arm around Tris' shoulders. "Daja left before..." The plant mage paused, thinking through the last few days and added, "It really hasn't been a day yet, has it? Since we...sorted things out."

"Not yet," Tris agreed, though it felt much longer than that.

Their foster-mother nodded, you couldn't share what hadn't happened yet. "Well then, boy, you running to get the pies you mentioned should be just enough time for Tris and I to have a nice chat," she said, speaking as one who expected to be obeyed.

The plant mage paused, frowning as he asked carefully, "Is everything alright?"

"It will be, if you go get the pies and let us have a chat," his teacher replied, annoyed at his reluctance.

"But..."

Rosethorn sighed, stepping closer and laying one work roughened palm on each of their cheeks. "You may not have anyone else's blessing yet," she said warmly as she eyed them both, displaying more gentleness than usual. "But you have mine and Lark's. Mother Mila keep you in her embrace. May she make your union long and fruitful." The words were a formal blessing, one used in many places the Circle Temples existed. She winked, and added, "We are expecting grandchildren eventually."

Tris went scarlet, and Briar laughed as he wrapped arms about his foster-mother and wife.

"Now get those pies," Rosethorn said as she disentangled herself from the hug a moment later and pushed him towards the door.

"Yes, ma'am," he said, dropping kisses on both their cheeks before hurrying off. Tris' smile returned as she watched him go, and the great mage beside her sighed.

"Young love," she said, getting her foster-daughter's attention again. "He is probably going to run, so best make this quick. Have you and he...?" The older woman didn't need to finish the statement. Especially not after their talks over the last few moons.

"No," Tris admitted, feeling the heat flood back into her face. Cursed pale skin. "I'm...I'm not ready to just yet."

"Why not?" The plant was was genuinely curious and not in the least bit prying. The weather mage decided that if anyone deserved an answer, it was this woman.

"I don't...I suppose I never thought I would find myself in this position," she explained carefully. "And I don't want to rush into it. There's no need, we have time."

Rosethorn's smile was wry, but understanding just the same. "Most of us feel unprepared the first time. You seem to like kissing him well enough." Tris didn't need to answer, her flaming cheeks were response enough. The dedicate hid a laugh behind one wide sleeve. "I'll take that as a yes. Whenever you decide to, it's no one's business but yours. I will, however, recommend a few things." Rosethorn looked away as she moved to the table, pulling down a clean sheet of paper from Briar's stack and a pen and ink bottle. "The first is, you recall how we spoke at length about the importance of...lubrication."

"Yes." And she did. Lark had been the one to cover this when they reached the appropriate age, privately so each could ask their questions without feeling restrained due to listeners. Still, the dedicate had been thorough in being certain none of her foster-children would be caught unprepared. Entirely embarrassed just by the memory, Tris was grateful her other foster-mother kept her eyes on the paper in front of her.

"I'm giving you directions to a certain shop, and what to ask for," the dedicate went on, writing carefully. Her hands still shook slightly at times, and she took her time to be certain each letter was legible. "Regardless of whether you regularly have this problem or not, you will find a time when you simply do not produce enough of your own to...be with someone comfortably. Use this in those times. Your first time, if you aren't sure, use it. Too much cannot hurt, too little will."

Rosethorn glanced once at Tris, who nodded, before turning back to the paper.

"Two, is to be on top the first time," she continued calmly. "Doing it that way doesn't mean you always have to, but it will give you a great deal more control. You will be able to stop anything that feels wrong much more easily, and be in a better position to correct it as well. Briar is going to be gentle, I have no doubt of that. But if you are the one controlling what happens, he will be able to take his cues from you as you're ready."

This was also from the lecture before, but Tris decided if the great mage had deemed it important enough to bring it up a second time, it would probably be wise to listen. Another glance came her way, and again she nodded shortly.

Rosethorn dipped the nib of her pen back into the ink, still writing as she said, "And finally, a tea. Briar is still taking is droughtwort. Normally I would say that is sufficient to keep children out of the picture until you are ready. But I have no idea if your magical bond might get in the way of that. This isn't a guarantee, but it at least means you are taking every reasonable precaution without resorting to extremes. You shouldn't need a cup every day, but at least two cups a week is wise. Don't drink it the week of your moon days, and if it hurts your stomach come and see me. There are other options, this is just the easiest."

The paper was sanded to absorb the excess ink, then folded and handed to Tris who tucked it away in a pocket. "I will," she said, smiling slightly as her foster-mother glanced her way. "Thank you."

Rosethorn nodded as she stood, saying gruffly, "I meant what I said at your wedding, Tris. Please take care of him."

"Always," the weather witch promised, and they smiled at each other.

"Glaki is going to be pleased as well," her companion went on, sitting on the stool once more and taking another sip of the water still on the table beside her. "May I tell her, or do you want to do that yourself?"

"Do you think so?" Tris asked hopefully. "You can tell her if you want, I just wasn't sure..."

"I do," Rosethorn said, deciding Glaki's hurt didn't need to be shared. It would only make Tris feel guilty, and that hurt would be no more. "You shouldn't wait to tell the girls, though. They will be upset if they find out accidentally and decide you were hiding it from them."

The younger woman paused before asking carefully, "How do you think they're going to take it?"

"I think they'll love you both too much to interfere, regardless of how they feel," the dedicate replied honestly.

Tris frowned at her, saying, "That's not comforting," in an accusing voice.

"I'm not the comforting person. Lark is," her foster-mother said unapologetically, shrugging. "I don't know how they're going to react, Tris. I'm not them. I am happy for you, Lark will be happy for you too. But, we also suspected this when you were children. That this might happen eventually, I mean. Hence my being more amused than surprised at finding you two 'together' in his workshop. And Shurri Firesword strike me if I lie, if we thought this was not a good match for you both we would be having a very different conversation right now."

The weather witch considered that thoughtfully. Would she have listened, had that been the case? Of course, had that been the case, would she have fallen for Briar in the first place? She was physically attracted to him, but that had come second. If she did not respect him, did not trust him, would she still have chosen him? She hoped she would have been intelligent enough not to, and wasn't certain in that intelligence at all. Matters of the heart were very troubling at times.

"My final piece of advice," the dedicate went on with a wry smile, "is always lock your door."

Tris flushed again, and grumbled back, "At least we were wearing _clothes._ "

Rosethorn's grin grew wickedly. " _This_ time."

-090-

Briar wasn't running, precisely, but he was moving quickly. He wasn't the skinny boy who could slip between the slow, clumsy adults like a shadow anymore. And if he ran, people would wonder what he was running to or from. Guards in particular tended to get nosy about people running. So he hurried, because Rosethorn didn't have forever and he didn't want to keep her waiting for his return. Returning to Tris that much faster was only a very welcome bonus.

He was clearly more concerned with being polite.

The plant mage knew the piemaker and his wife well. The pair had long been a favorite of his, the only person in the city who could cook leeks better than them was Tris.

"Good morning," he said as he made it to the counter. "One chicken, one leek and mushroom, and one..." The fruit pies were always based on availability, and he scanned the options quickly. "Blueberry," remembering Tris liked blueberries. Cherry would have been better, but the season was past now until next spring.

"Of course, Master Moss," the pie maker's wife said as she wrapped them up and placed them in a cheap basket. Coins traded hands and, she added, "We haven't seen you in a while. Been busy?"

"Yes, I have," he admitted with a rueful grin. Absently, he added, "Thank you, Mistress."

"No compliments today?" she asked, pretending to pout. Her husband next to her rolled his eyes, but it was in amusement. She liked to flirt, and he paid no mind so long as that was all she did.

"Ah, my apologies," Briar said with a flourishing bow. "My head is full of another today."

"She must be special to fill your head," the woman rejoined with a laugh. "Best marry her quick then, before someone else snaps her up!"

Briar's smile could have rivaled the sun.

"I already did."

-090-

Rosethorn waited just long enough to give Briar a kiss goodbye before leaving. He understood, she couldn't leave Lark alone in the stall for long, and retreated to the kitchen with Tris and the pies still smiling. Given that his wife had kissed Rosethorn as well before the dedicate left, he decided not to pry into whatever they had discussed. She would either tell him or she wouldn't, but she was at ease which put him at ease. It was nothing to worry about, then.

Briar did, however, decide to ask about something else. "So," he said as they pulled out plates, cups and utensils, "why did Rosethorn owe you an experience like that?"

Tris blushed again, and she sighed. "Seriously, this cannot be healthy turning red all the time," she told him as he cut them both slices of the pie. "It might stick eventually, and then what would I do?"

"I wouldn't mind," he said, grinning at her as he gratefully accepted his piece. "I think you're pretty that way."

"That's not helping," she informed him tartly. He winked back, and she tried to ignore the increased flaming of her face. "I told you about my hair before," she said, hoping that a change of subject would help. Maybe.

"Yes," he replied encouragingly, digging into his meal as they sat together.

Reluctantly his wife continued as she settled in beside him. "The first time I realized it was falling out, it was in the middle of the night. I had taken the braids out a few days before, to brush them straight again, and so that night I didn't. I woke up, with my scalp itching horribly. Unplaiting one of the empty braids, I ran my fingers through it and came out with a fistful of hair. I panicked. Ran downstairs as quickly as I could to Rosethorn's room, and burst in without knocking. They were both in her bed. Not sleeping." Tris looked down at her plate, toying with her food as she tried not to remember the incident.

"What did they do?" Briar prompted when the silence began to stretch.

"Lark saw the fistful of hair and realized what was going on," she replied slowly. "So she got out of the bed. She wasn't wearing anything. It didn't help. Rosethorn got dressed and looked at my head. Then Lark helped me unbraid the rest and comb in some rosemary oil to try and help. I only had winds tied up in my braids then, so releasing them wasn't a problem. She walked me back upstairs, and told me they weren't angry about it. Bursting in, I mean. Three days later I still couldn't look either one of them in the face."

"Why not?" he asked, genuinely curious as he watched her cheeks turn pink again. "I mean, we knew they were together."

Tris gave him a frown. "Knowing a couple is together doesn't mean I want to see them be together," she told him tartly. "It's not that I'm disgusted with them. It's just not my business. Seeing Rosethorn and Lark to me would be like seeing my parents or the Duke and Yazmin or Niko and one of his 'friends'. Or even Daja and Rizu. They can all do whatever they like behind closed doors, and I'm happy for all them to have someone. I just don't want to watch them do it."

It made sense, Briar decided, and he nodded. Still a change of subject seemed wise. "How is your forehead?" he asked, grinning at her.

"I don't think I have a mark," she replied, touching the injured spot carefully. It was still tender.

"Good," he said with mock relief. "I've been told I have a hard head."

"So do I," Tris admitted ruefully.

"I know," he said, rubbing his forehead as though it still pained him. He stopped when Tris elbowed him in the ribs, not amused.

"What did you get for the third pie?" she asked, glancing at the basket on the counter.

"Blueberry." Briar's smile widened at the way his wife perked up in interest. "I'll cut us a piece," he said, carrying his empty plate to the counter and pulling the pie out of its wrappings. Tris was surprised when he returned with only one large slice a few moments later.

"Since when do you willingingly share food?" she asked as he set the plate between them, not entirely teasing. "I mean, you steal food from us all the time, but attempting to take anything from your plate puts fingers at risk of being bitten off."

"You're the only exception now," he said as he took the first bite. "Mmm. It's a perk of being married to me."

Tris immediately took a bite of her own, and he gave her a disapproving frown. "What?" she asked, bite halfway to her mouth.

"Dessert comes after you finish your food," he said, glancing at her half-full plate.

"Not if I'm sharing with you," she protested, popping the bite in her mouth before he could steal it. It was the perfect balance of tart and sweet. "You'll eat the whole piece if I wait that long," she added once her mouth was empty.

Her second bite was lost to a daring sneak attack by her husband, and he winked at her in triumph. That incited a mock-battle, in which much of the pie was destroyed in attacks and counter-attacks but still eaten despite it's crumbled state. Not looking pretty did nothing to diminish its delectable taste.

Dessert finished, Tris went back to her meal as Briar chatted about some changes he was thinking about making to the garden. She added her opinions when asked, and he admitted she had a few points he hadn't considered. Which is why he had asked, because she always did. For some reason, that pleased her just as much as his kiss on her cheek as they cleaned up the meal. The weather witch washed their plates as Briar dried. As she went to drain the sink with the last knife and fork tucked safely in their drawer, he hugged her from behind with her hands still buried in the water. Tomorrow, she decided as just the feel of his weight pressed against hers made her shiver. Tomorrow would be a very good day to run the errands Rosethorn had suggested.

"We need to talk about Sandry and Daja," she said as she turned around to face him, wiping her hands on a towel. He backed up a step to give her room but kept his hands on her waist. "Rosethorn made a good point. The longer we wait, the most likely they are going to be upset."

"I know, I just don't want them mad at me," he grumbled as he pulled her towards the garden. They had decided that with everyone gone, it would be a fine place to spend the afternoon in the shade of the young oak. "Sandry more than Daja. She's probably going to assume I seduced you into this."

"You could tell her the truth," Tris said lightly. "That you haven't seduced me."

"I also haven't been trying that hard," he said as he paused. Lifting one nail-bitten palm to his lips and kissed it lightly, he held her gaze and said in a voice that gave her pleasant goosebumps, "After all, there's no rush. But...do you want me to try harder?"

Anticipation made her momentarily forget her train of thought. Yes, tomorrow would be a very good day to run those errands. Forcing herself back to the present, she went on. "I think we should tell Daja tonight and Sandry tomorrow," she said, thoughtfully adding, "If you want me to try to convince them without you first, I will." Tris wasn't sure it would help, but maybe it would be best if she did.

"No." It was tempting. At the very least, if there was yelling it would put off being the recipient of said yelling. But Briar wouldn't hide behind his wife he when was perfectly capable of standing on his own two feet. "If we tell them then we'll tell together," he said firmly, pulling her gently into a tight embrace. "I don't want them trying to convince you you're crazy without being there to say they're wrong," he added almost to himself.

"That worried they'll convince me?" she asked, burying her face in his chest.

"Maybe," he grumped as he held her tighter still. "All I know is a life without you beside me is a life I don't want."

Tris tilted her face up to his, and he eagerly met her halfway.

"Oh, I'm going to miss this," he breathed when they finally broke apart, resting his forehead against hers.

"Kissing me?" she asked, sounding perplexed as she tried to think past the hammering of her heart. How could he manage to so thoroughly set her spinning with only a kiss? He looked only a little out of breath. The weather witch considered checking the bond, and quickly dismissed it. If he were less affected, it would be a blow to her pride. If he weren't, she wasn't sure she would have the self-control not to leap into deep waters she wasn't ready for yet.

"Kissing you without interruptions," he corrected her with a chuckle. "And your curls." The glance he gave her was wheedling.

Tris gave him a firm look in return. "I'm putting the braids back in tonight," she told him in a voice that brooked no argument.

"I know," he said, thoroughly disappointed.

"It's my mage kit, Briar," she told him defensively. "I feel almost naked without it." The moment the words were out of her mouth she regretted them. Heat crept up her cheeks as he grinned widely.

"So that's why I like you so much without it," he said with a knowing smile.

"You will have to be careful once I put it back up," she said, ignoring his smile. It would only make her blush worse.

"I know," he said as he tugged one curl gently. Shrugging, he added, "That has its own attraction, I suppose."

"How so?" she asked, taking a half step back so she could see his face without craning her neck.

"Not every fella gets to kiss a girl who braids winds and lightning into her hair," he said mildly. "And they say danger is the spice of life..."

"Technically, you haven't either," she told him, poking his side.

"A situation I will remedy as soon as the opportunity presents itself," he said, leaning towards her again with a look she was beginning to recognize. He wanted to kiss her again. She decided that it might be her new favorite look.

"Promise?" she breathed, hands sliding up to his neck.

"Yes-"

Both of them turned as the echo of pain burst across their bond.

 _Daja?_ Tris asked, her mental voice rising in alarm. She and Briar reached for their sister as one, steadying her through their link.

 _Oh, thank Shurri,_ Daja replied weakly. _I'm not hurt, not really. It's backlash. The bag's pet mage interfered while I was working, and I had to absorb the rebound or it would have likely fried him. They're bringing me by carriage. Can you shutter up my rooms, draw a bath and make some of Briar's tea? And something to make me sleep. My skull feels like it was used as an anvil by an enthusiastic apprentice._

 _Do you need a healer?_ Briar asked, trying to ignore the nausea that rolled along their bond.

 _Shouldn't. Didn't bleed out the nose, and no black spots in my vision. If it still hurts when I wake, we'll see._ There was a pause, then she said quickly, _Excuse me, I need to vomit again._

The link cut off abruptly, and for that Tris was glad. She stepped back from Briar, taking a moment to breath and remind herself that _she_ wasn't the one with a headache and sick stomach. Normally things didn't accidentally bleed through that much, but Daja had been too sick to keep it to herself.

"I'll get the bath and her rooms," Tris said as she hurriedly turned away.

"I'll get the tea and sleepy drink," Briar replied, heading for his workshop.

 _I guess that means we're not telling her tonight,_ he added as his hands grabbed what he needed and began to pour some of this and some of that into a clean bowl.

 _Not if she's as bad as she sounded,_ his wife replied worriedly.

 _We'll tell them together. It will be fine._ He hoped.

-090-

Daja was worse than she'd sounded. Briar had helped her from the carriage, weaving drunkenly together as he guided her in the front door to her rooms. She at least wasn't covered in her own sick, and he only had to contend with her faltering legs. Tris took over in the bathroom, helping the tall girl strip to her skin and crawl into the tub full of aromatic herbs in oil Briar had given her. The perfume they released would help ease the nausea, and hopefully take the edge off the pain. While Daja soaked, her eyes covered by a cool dampened towel, Tris had folded back the bedcovers and pulled out clean clothes. The Trader needed a hand when she finally climbed from the tub, but once seated could towel and dress herself. She was able to walk unassisted to her bed, and Tris made her sit as she presented a tray with a plate and two steaming cups.

 _Not hungry_ , Daja said as she reached straight for the sleepy drink.

 _Briar said it will help the tea for the pain and the sleepy drink if you eat,_ Tris replied in her gentlest voice as she stopped the reaching hand. _Besides, it's chicken pie and it's still warm..._ The tone she used was similar to the one she had once used on Glaki when encouraging the child to try something new.

 _Pie...?_ Daja had said, nose turning towards it as though noticing for the first time.

Briar watched from the doorway as Tris coaxed and bullied the dazed Trader through the entire slice of pie and both drinks before blowing out the single lamp and leaving the room.

"She won't wake until noon," Briar observed as he followed her back to the kitchen. "Not with as many drops as I gave her."

 _Briar? Tris? What's wrong with Daja?_ Sandry said, suddenly present in their minds and her voice on the edge of panic. _I tried to reach her and she's not answering._

 _She's fine_ , Tris quickly replied as Briar withdrew to clean up the tea things. _Something went wrong at the noble's house. She didn't really explain, but she had to absorb some sort of rebounded magic. She was hurting and exhausted, but not showing any of the signs of real damage. We helped her clean up and eat so she could sleep._

Sandry sounded close to tears as she replied, _I thought I felt her reaching for me, but I was in a meeting with Uncle and when it was done I couldn't reach her-_

 _It's alright,_ Tris cut in gently, trying to convey reassurance through their bond. _She will be fine, she just needs sleep._

 _You're sure?_ Her sister demanded.

 _As sure as I can be without being a healer._ Tris moderated her tone as she added, _I will make sure she lets you know when she wakes up. We'll keep an eye on her until then._

 _Ok, thank you._ Sandry paused, then added, _I'm sorry I couldn't come help._

Tris repressed the urge to tell her sister she was being silly, and instead said, _I'm sure she'll understand, Sandry. I do._

 _Thank you._

Tris found Briar in the kitchen and gave him a quizzical look. "Is there a reason you didn't want to talk to Sandry?" she asked after the noble woman had retreated from her mind.

"Yes," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "It occurred to me while watching you help her that with Daja asleep, you could go put your hair back in its braids now. We could then eat dinner, and have the rest of the evening to ourselves.

Something about the way he said made her stomach flutter pleasantly. "And I suppose you have some ideas how we'll spend that time?" she asked, raising one brow.

"A few," he agreed with a guilty grin. "Some of which are quite...distracting. I didn't want her to catch a stray thought and find out that way."

"That is surprisingly well considered," she told him with an approving nod.

"I occasionally have something besides dirt between my ears," he rejoined mockingly.

"I'll go put my braids in right now," she said, turning towards the stairs. "What are you going to do?"

"I am going to watch." Tris paused, glancing back at him in surprise until he explained, "I like watching you work your magic. It's one of my-" his grin became brilliantly cheeky, "favorites."

"You are insufferable sometimes," she told him, ascending the stairs ahead of him.

Briar didn't complain. Escorting her was nice, but so was watching from behind. "And you love me anyways. Lucky me."

-090-

Dinner was quiet. Tris was always tired after concentrating that long, and Briar served the slices of pie in their room on the balcony. Together they ate, watching the sky grow dark as the sun set in the west and the moon rose to show half its face.

"That's something I hadn't thought of," Briar said absently as he scraped the last of the gravy from his plate.

"What?" Tris asked, sitting in perfect contentment beside him.

"The next full moon," he replied. "It's in...two weeks?"

"A week and five days." The response was automatic, she always knew where they were in the phases of the moon. "Why?"

"I'm not saying you have to tell me what happens," he said gently. "But I would like to know if there's anything I can do to help with whatever happens to you when there's a full moon. Do I need to sleep somewhere else for the night? Or...or is it something I might be able ease with one of my medicines, or...?"

Tris wondered if it was possible for your brain to shut down from bloodloss from blushing. Blushing was, after all, blood flooding your vessels near the surface of your skin. She had read that somewhere in a medical text by a famous healer. And given the heat she could feel radiating from her face and neck and was now creeping down her arms (Mila bless her, was that even possible?) and how there was only so much blood in the body at once time she supposed it could be possible...

Which, of course, wasn't her focusing on his question at all.

Briar, waited patiently, watching her blush in surprise but certain at least that she wasn't angry or upset. Sparks would have been in play otherwise.

"I...um..." Tris took another drink of her tea to wet her quickly drying throat. "I don't think you will have to worry about it this moon."

"Really?" he asked, curious. "I would have thought it would be worse, with all the tension these last few weeks. You said stress made it worse."

"S-sometimes," she admitted, wincing at her stumbling tongue. "It's...it's compli...cated..." The words died on her tongue, and she could see her foolishness for what it was. If she could trust him, then she could trust him. The only reason not to tell him was to save herself embarrassment, and that was just an excuse. And if she were honest, a sort of a lie. She was done lying to him.

So she told him. Not every single detail, because that wasn't what was important, and she did so staring straight ahead gripping the arms of her chair as though her life depended on it, but still she told him.

"And so," she concluded in a tight voice some time later, "the reason you couldn't help at the time was because you were part of my problem."

Briar was rather overwhelmed beside her. Of all the possibilities he had considered, vivid dreams that involved him had not been remotely on the list. It was flattering, and a little strange. He had had dreams about her, of course, but he hadn't even thought it possible that she might have dreamed of him. Had dream him been...satisfying? He hoped so, he wouldn't want his dream self to reflect poorly on his real self. Given the amount of blood currently coursing through his wife's face, dream him might have been _too_ good. That was something to consider too. Realizing she was still frozen in place, probably waiting for his response, he reached over and took her hand in his.

"Actually," he said with a wide smile, "I wasn't part of the problem, I was the solution to your problem." The look of pure affront he got for his trouble was worth it. She forgot her embarrassment in her annoyance with him, and faced him with a scowl. "And I'm glad it wasn't anything more serious," he added when she looked about to scorch his ears. "You had me pretty worried that day."

That took the wind out of her sails, and she went from seriously annoyed to merely mildly irritated. It didn't work all the time, but you couldn't live with a girl as long as he had Tris and not know ways to steer the conversation from time to time.

"I wasn't trying to worry you," she said, turning back to look at the darkening sky above them. "I just...well, obviously I couldn't tell you then."

He could see that. "No, I understand," he said with a small grin. "Though just for my security of mind...was there anyone besides me, or...?"

Tris's eyes darted to his in shock. "Security of mind?" she asked incredulously. "Briar, what are you talking about?"

"You know," he said, trying to make a joke of it and falling short. "Is there anyone I need to watch out for, that might steal you from under my nose? Like...say...I don't know...Keth...or..."

"That's what you're trying to ask," she asked, rolling her eyes in disbelief. "Briar, we did talk about this. I meant it when I said you had nothing to be jealous of Keth about."

"But...did you ever dream about him?" he pressed before he could consider the wisdom of the question.

"No, I did not," she snapped, "but even if I had, Briar, it wouldn't be any of your business. I haven't asked how many women you've been with, and those weren't dreams. And I won't, because that was before me. Now I think I'd like a cup of tea." Swiftly she rose, collecting their empty plates before leaving him alone in their room and hurrying down the stairs.

Briar felt like a fool. "Idiot," he muttered to himself as he stood and began to pace. "Jealous fool. It wasn't any of your business, but you just had to press..." She hadn't closed herself off to him, he could tell, which meant he hadn't completely messed up. But she was upset, he could feel it like unpleasant pin pricks on his skin when he reached for their bond. And he wasn't going to make the same mistake he did last time, leaving it to fester for weeks before it exploded in his face. He would apologize, like a man, and own up to his mistake. She might still be upset with him, and he might have lost out on any more kisses or cuddles tonight which he wasn't thrilled about. But at least then he could honestly say he had done everything he could to make it right short of altering the past.

-090-

Routines always helped calm Tris. Fill the kettle, put in the loose tea leaves. She used her heat braid to warm it, to avoid stoking the kitchen fire. She would have to then bank it again afterwards, which would only annoy her further. Of course, being that lazy annoyed her as well so perhaps it wouldn't have mattered after all. Fill the cups, add honey and some milk. Stir three times, tap the spoon and taste. It was routine.

Dealing with Briar, it seemed, was anything but routine.

"Asking about Keth like that," she muttered to herself as she put their dishes in the sink to soak overnight. "As if...and even if I had, it's none of his! Jealous nitwit. I've _told_ him-!"

Still, the routine had its intended effect, and she had nearly let it go altogether by the time she drank her tea. She would have to discuss it with him, of course. Put his mind at ease, somehow. Had he really been that affected by Keth's presence and intention of asking her to marry him? He admitted jealousy, yes, but she hadn't really thought...not more than one might be with a close friend...

That thought made her warm up a bit, a smile growing on her face. It had been a rude question, yes, but there was also a certain amount of...pleasure in knowing Briar had been that jealous of her student. Would he be like that all the time, she wondered. Not that it would matter really, other than Keth she couldn't imagine anyone else remotely vying for her attention. Of course, he had been grumpy after she danced with the Duke and met his friend Lord Thurston. She hadn't considered herself as being more than polite, but he had certainly taken it as otherwise.

It was a rude question, she reaffirmed to herself quietly, but it also showed how much he cared. How afraid he was to lose her. Which was ridiculous, because she couldn't imagine anyone she would want more than him. The possibility simply didn't exist in her mind. So, she decided, she wouldn't be angry about it. She would correct him, gently but firmly, and try to reassure him that there truly was no one else. It certainly wasn't worth fighting over, and to be honest was slightly ridiculous. He was the one who had had a whole parade of lovers these last few years. Shouldn't she be the one getting jealous about everyone he had shared himself with before her?

Tris wasn't, of course. To her it made sense. What was before was before. And he had never given his heart to any of them. Had never told them about his scars from the war or shared stories from growing up on the streets. They may have had his body, but she had always held his heart. She just wished she had realized that sooner.

The weather witch was surprised to find her feet had taken her back upstairs of their own accord as she thought. She looked up to see Briar watching her from the balcony door.

"I'm sorry," he said before she could speak, crossing to her and pulling her into a gentle hug. "It's my fault, and I'm an idiot. Please forgive me."

Which was not what she had expected, but was a pleasant surprise nonetheless. "You're forgiven," she replied, allowing herself to be wrapped tightly in his arms. "Why do you keep coming back to Keth, though? You know it wasn't like that between us."

"Yes, I know," he mumbled, careful of her braids as he held her closer still. "And I believe you when you say that. It's _him_ I don't trust."

"But, you still asked if I had dreamt about him," she reminded him lightly. "He would have no control over that."

"No," he agreed sourly. "He wouldn't. I was being an idiot, and I'm sorry. I won't do it again."

"Be an idiot?"

"Be an idiot about this," he corrected her with a grin. "I'm sure I'll find something else to be an idiot about before too long."

"Probably," she agreed, smiling into his chest.

"You know, you don't have to agree quite so quickly," he huffed as he bent to nibble her ear. Her response was swallowed by the shivers his ministrations brought on, and he grinned. "What was that?" he asked innocently, still nuzzling her ear.

Tris decided the only way to end that infuriating conversation was to kiss him.

A time later they lay together in the dark, she in her shift and he in his pants with limbs comfortably entangled on their bed. Moonlight streamed in just enough to highlight the room in a silver glow, and Briar sighed in contentment as he traced his finger along his wife's partially bared back. Her head resting his chest was still, her breath raising goosebumps on his skin.

"Have I told you how much I like your freckles?" he asked as enjoyed the feel of her pressed against him. "They're like your own personal constellations. She sky. She wind and she rain. And I like how you turn pink when you blush. That's definitely a favorite." Fingers paused mid motion as he asked, "Do you have them everywhere? The freckles I mean." Before she could reply, he went on, "Never mind. I'll find out myself, eventually."

That did make her blush, and she felt his laugh rumble quietly in his chest.

"You are insufferable sometimes," she told him, despite the fact that she was completely unwilling to move.

"But you still love me anyways?" he asked, grinning foolishly.

She smiled in the dark, pressing herself against him as warmth flooded through her.

"Yes."

-090-

Lark couldn't take it anymore. Rosethorn had been smug every since returning from her trip to No 5 Cheeseman Street, and had only said she had a story to share later that evening when the 'kids' were abed. Glaki and Evvy had finally been chased into their rooms for the night, and Comas had quietly retreated without further prodding from his teacher. Her lover sat at their kitchen table, a cup of tea in her hand and a faraway look in her eyes as she stirred the dark liquid absently.

"You are going to tell me," Lark insisted as she sat beside her, nudging her in the ribs pointedly. "Now. You've learned something good, and I want to know what it is."

"I don't know," Rosethorn replied with a teasing grin. "It's not often I know something before you. Maybe I should hold it over your head for another day or two, just to see how much you wind yourself up."

"If you're going to be like that I'll just go visit them myself tomorrow to find out," Lark replied tartly, starting to rise. "And you can mind the children on your own while I'm gone."

"That's not fighting fair," her lover said quickly, a stab of panic apparent in her voice. A day alone with their three current charges would be nothing short of hell for the taciturn dedicate.

"And you were?" the thread mage replied hotly, though she sat back down with an air of hopefulness.

Rosethorn's smile returned, and she said, "Well, I'll tell you then." The plant mage wasn't a gifted storyteller, but this tale did not need embroidering. A few words were all that was needed to paint the picture of the three-story home on Cheeseman street being unusually quiet upon her arrival. Of hearing voices in the back, and sensing Briar's presence through his plants. Of finding their foster son and daughter quite cozily seated on a stool together, her in his lap, as they kissed and talked. Until Rosethorn had scared them out of a year's growth, that was.

"The stool went right over," the dedicate went on, barely containing her laughter so she could continue her tale. "They knocked their heads together and landed on the floor in a heap. The surprise and indignation...I laughed until I was almost sick, Lark." Wiping at her eyes, the dedicate glanced at her companion expecting her to be almost in tears as well. When she realized her lover was simply staring in disbelief she paused. "Lark?"

"You're being serious?" Lark replied, her mouth falling open. "They...they actually...?"

"They're in love," Rosethorn replied with a warm smile as she put an arm about her own love. "I blessed them in the usual way. I did it for both of us, I hope you don't mind."

A smile threatened to split the thread mage's face as she answered, "Not as long as you told them we want grandchildren."

"I did," her companion said with a smile as she remembered the pair's reaction. "I also had a chat with Tris while Briar went to fetch the pies they had been discussing before my interruption. It might be awhile before we get the grandchildren, but I think they will come eventually."

"Eventually?" Lark asked, sounding disappointed, "But...their bond. We discussed this, that normal means of preventing a pregnancy might not work."

"Yes, well, first off the deed must be completed before that can pose a problem," Rosethorn said, clearly amused.

"They haven't...? Why _not_?" The explanation was succinctly given, but in truth mostly ignored. Lark had her own assumptions already, and she hissed in exasperation. "I knew Niko was overstressing the importance of control. I _told_ him it could cause problems..."

"She's a weather mage, and she nearly set the cottage on fire when she lost her temper more than once," her lover replied dryly. "I think control was exactly what she needed at the time. However, that's not the case here, I don't think. You remember how she was as a child. She took nearly two weeks to decide if she liked braids in her hair before she started attempting to tie winds into them. She's methodical. This will be the same."

"You are probably right," Lark admitted, blushing slightly. "You said 'first'. Is there a second?"

"Yes," the plant mage admitted, having hoped her love would have forgotten that in her anger. "I gave her Gretchen's name, and which tea to ask for. It may not help, but I think they deserve the opportunity to attempt to wait until they wish to have children." She did not need to look up to know her fellow foster-mother was giving her an annoyed stare, and added simply, "It's their choice, Lark, not ours."

"No one is actually ready," the dedicate replied grumpily. "We certainly weren't for our first, and we weren't anymore ready when these four were given to us."

"You had had practice though," her companion pointed out carefully, "and we've never been given infants."

"Tris has had practice too," the thread mage pointed out in exasperation. "Glaki was better cared for than many children I knew growing up when she arrived. And Briar made a good showing for himself with Evvy. _Grandchildren_ , Rosethorn. And you gave her the _tea_..."

"It might not work," Rosethorn reminded her defensively. "And it's still not our choice. They're all still young, there's time..."

"I know, I had just hoped..." It had been a dream of Lark's as a little girl to have her own children, and the reason she had accepted this position in the cottage. What she had not understood, at first, was how transient their charges would be. Year after year, faces had come and gone. "I never thought any of our children would stay this close with us," she said softly, reaching for the other half of her heart across the table. "We don't even know what's happened to most of the children we've kept over the years. They would come and go so quickly, but these four...they are _ours_ , Rosethorn. I don't care of they have relatives elsewhere, they are _our_ children more than anyone else's in this world."

"Niko and Frostpine might disagree with that," Rosethorn pointed out dryly.

"Niko and Frostpine did not have to live with them until we had civilized them," Lark retorted shortly. "They taught them, we _raised_ them."

Her companion smiled slightly. "That is true."

"And now two of them together, and married, and..." Lark trailed off, giving her partner of many years a dark look as the paler woman hid her face in one wide sleeve. "Are you laughing at me?"

"No," Rosethorn said as she smothered her chuckle quickly. "It will happen, Lark. We can be patient."

" _I_ can't."

Which was ironic, because that was usually Rosethorn's line. "Well, be careful or Sandry will think you've replaced her as your favorite," she said, deflecting her partner to another topic.

"You know I don't like that word," the thread mage said quickly. "I never treated her any differently from the others, and the bond between teacher and student is a special one."

"I know," Rosethorn said as she stood, beginning to clear the cups away.

"Do we have permission to tell Glaki?" Lark asked as she rose as well, a hopeful look on her face.

"We do," the plant mage confirmed, not needing to turn around to know her companion was already on the stairs.

"She'll be thrilled," Lark called, hurrying the rest of the way.

Rosethorn just smiled, and refilled the tea pot. It would probably get noisy in a moment, everyone crowding downstairs once more to talk and celebrate. Glaki would want to tell Evvi, and the pair would pull poor Comas out of his shell whether or not he wanted it. Still, it was a reason to celebrate. She had some honey cakes she had brought over from the kitchen when picking up the evening meal, and set those out for everyone to share as the fresh kettle began to heat. Happiness made the preparation for impromptu party less onerous than it might have been otherwise. Her boy had found his other half, and her heart sang with the joy even if her face showed only a slight smile.

He had found his home.

-090-

Author's Notes:

I hope this amused you as much as it amused me. You do get strange looks from your SO when you're cackling aloud while typing, but that doesn't stop the cackles.

There was a really long series of notes attached to this, but my spotty internet has now erased it three times in a row. At this point, I'm just going to hope I can get the chapter to post.

Until next week,

~CB~


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

Daja woke the next morning around the 10th bell feeling almost normal, with an empty stomach and a full bladder. Rising, she changed and took care of one of the two problems before heading to the kitchen to find food for the other. The smith mage was drained, and she could feel her magic was still wobbly from the beating the backlash had inflicted. But her legs were steady and her head clear as her steps carried her across the house.

Tris was there, nearly sparking with energy as she put one tray of cookies in the oven, and pulled out another of pastries. A whole chicken sat on the counter, already prepared for baking when it was time.

"You're awake," she said when she spotted the tall Trader in the doorway. "How are you feeling?"

"Less dead," Daja replied as she moved to sit at the table, still weak enough not to want to stand too long. "Some more headache tea would help. And some food."

"Briar left it out, just in case," Tris said as she pulled a steaming kettle from the stove and poured hot water into a heavy clay mug with a spoonful of herbs. "And I made these just for you."

They were small hand pies, still warm and filled with a spicy chopped sausage and apples mixture she enjoyed. "You're in a good mood today," Daja observed as her sister also put the honey on the table. The headache tea was very bitter, and not in a pleasant way. "Not fighting with Briar anymore?"

"No," Tris said, turning away to chop vegetables on the counter. "We're not."

Her sister smiled, replying around a mouthful of food. "Good. You two can take weeks to work it out, sometimes."

Tris's lips curled up in a slight smile, and she thought to herself that she didn't think that would be the case anymore. "Briar will want to see you," she said, hands working away steadily. "To check and make sure you don't need a healer."

"Let me eat first," the smith mage replied around a mouthful of pie. "Then he can poke at me as much as he likes. I'm fine."

-090-

Briar knew within moments when Tris took his favorite spice cookies out from the oven. The scent crept into his workshop, making him smile as he finished up what he was doing and rose to his feet. A cookie break was as good a reason as any to visit Tris, and she hadn't mentioned Daja being up yet. A sneak attack, he decided, was definitely in order.

-090-

Daja had applied herself with a will to the sausage-stuffed pies as a companionable silence fell between them. The tea had finally started erasing the last twinges of yesterday's backlash-induced pain, and she was about to ask for a cup of her usual brew when Briar swept in on silent feet.

Her mouth full and chair tucked out of sight, she watched as Briar plucked the knife from Tris' hands, set it to one side, and planted his mouth on hers enthusiastically. She expected Tris to push him away, and perhaps slap him for going too far.

Five minutes later, Daja decided she had better intervene before Tris died from a lack of air instead.

"Ahem."

Briar paused, and drew away to meet Tris' eyes.

"Daja's awake," she said a little breathlessly, pleasantly flushed pink.

"Good," Briar said as he slowly let go and turned to face his tallest sister. "Feeling better? No upset stomach or sharp pains anywhere?"

"Yes," she said, putting her chin in her hand as she watched the pair of them in amusement. Tris went back to chopping vegetables, still blushing, and Briar sat at the table as though nothing had happened at all. "No and no. You?"

"Me?" her brother said casually, "I'm fine, I was coming to see if I could steal a cookie…?" His tone took on a wheedling tone as he glanced towards the redhead in the room.

"They're for tonight, so no," Tris replied, not turning around.

"Oh, I don't know," Daja drawled as she grinned slowly. "I think he deserves at least one after a kiss like that…" Tris's blush flamed up the back of her neck, and Briar grinned smugly as he winked at his dark-skinned sister.

"It was a good one, wasn't it?" he said, obviously pleased.

Daja covered her laugh, saying in mock seriousness, "Hmm…and when did you start kissing her like that?"

"The day before yesterday," he replied, a hint of apology in his voice as he added, "We were going to tell you when you got home, but you weren't in great shape."

Tris turned suddenly, face strained as she blurted out, "Are you mad?"

Daja was surprised, and it showed as she said, "Mad? No, of course not. Why would I be?"

"Because we're…together," her sister replied, hands fisted into her apron.

"I'm not stupid or blind," Daja replied stoutly, "and the two of you have been circling each other like dogs in heat for a solid moon." Both of her siblings had the grace to blush at that. "I'm not certain your timing is the greatest, but as long as whatever this entails doesn't keep _me_ up at night, I'm fine with it."

"It won't," Tris said with a certainty that surprised her sister as well as her husband. "I made sure after...Namorn."

It was Daja's turn to blush, and Briar glanced back at his wife with a wide grin.

 _When were you planning on telling me?_ He asked teasingly.

 _When it mattered_ , she replied, flushing brightly again.

"You aren't going to do that a lot, are you?" Daja asked in mock annoyance. "Use the bond while excluding me? That will get old fast."

"Only when it's something you probably wouldn't want to hear," Briar replied mildly. "Unless you'd prefer me to say it right out...?" The look of horror on Tris' face was worth the price he would probably pay later for making the offer.

"No, no," Daja said quickly, deciding that was not a path she wished to traverse. "Use the bond. Just don't forget about me, I live here too and it's technically my house."

"We won't," the ex thief promised, biting into the freshly baked cookie that had appeared at his elbow. He handed the other to Daja.

"Have you told Sandry yet?" the smith mage asked as she went back to her meal.

"No," her brother said with a shrug. "There really hasn't been time."

"Does anyone know?"

"Rosethorn, and probably Lark too," Briar said with a frown. Daja caught Tris scowling and fingering her forehead behind him and decided that would need to be investigated later. "I don't know if she told anyone else…"

"Evvy and Glaki, probably," his wife interjected as she continued to work. "Rosethorn said she would pass on the word."

"And that's it?" the smith mage confirmed carefully.

"Yes."

"So no one's told Niko?" Briar and Tris fell silent, eyes meeting in obvious guilt. They had forgotten about the tall man altogether. "You should probably do that today," Daja advised as she popped the last pie in her mouth in satisfaction. They had been delicious.

"I need to pick some things up anyways," Tris said, for some reason blushing again. "I could stop by his place and see if he's in."

"No," Briar said as he rose, dusting off his hands, "I think I should tell him. I have a feeling he will want to talk to me anyways."

"Well, if you're going to get back before Sandry gets here you should probably go soon. I can put the chicken in for you," their sister offered as she poured herself another cup of tea. "Just write down the times so I don't burn it to a crisp."

"That's settled it, then," Briar said as he moved to the door. "I'll clean up and get my bag then go." He never went anywhere without his mini-mage kit, and Daja wondered absently if that was one effect from the war that would never fade.

Tris eyed Daja once they were alone, asking quietly, "You're sure you're ok with this?"

"Yes, I said so earlier didn't I?" her sister replied bluntly.

"I'm not used to things going right for me, you know that," the weather witch said as she removed her apron and began to scribble notes on large piece of slate attached to the wall. It was cheaper to keep a few pieces of chalk around then papers and charcoal sticks in the kitchen.

Daja rose, and hugged her sister as she brought her the directions. "You deserve every moment of happiness you can find," the taller woman said, sincerity ringing through every word. "We will always be _saati_ , and if he hurts you tell me and I will crack his skull for you. Of course, that will go the other way too. I can't play favorites, after all." Which she meant.

Tris laughed softly as she hugged her sister back, feeling relieved to have passed another hurdle safely. "Thank you."

Briar swept back through the kitchen, gathering Tris and both kissing their sister before heading out the door with his wife. Daja touched each cheek with fingertips, smiling as she watched them go. This wouldn't be so bad after all. And for once, she was probably right.

-090-

Niko had been a very busy man. He hadn't meant to get drawn back into the politics of Emelan, but it seemed a natural extension of his duties as a great mage and for as long as he stayed in residence his presence was requested. He had managed to attend the ball Sandry had hosted long enough to be polite some weeks before, but had spent most of it sequestered in corners talking with serious men on various matters of law and magic. Sandry had located him before he had left, and asked if he had seen Tris and Briar that night. He hadn't, and confessed he hadn't seen them in weeks. Was everything going well?

Her smile had been a tad forced, but that could have been the young man rudely dogging her heels. A new suitor, he had discovered later, and a most unwelcome one at that. She had assured him that all was fine, and bid him a good night.

Since then Niko had really meant to call. It seemed he must have started out to see them at least two or three times, but something always distracted him. A last minute invitation, a vague premonition, an unexpected visitor.

Today, he was at his desk answering letters. There were many that required his attention, and in particular an invitation to a discussion on banning certain types of magic in war. Logically, Niko agreed with the premise. He also knew that short of mages taking over each government it simply wasn't going to happen. And knowing what he knew of mages, those were the last people who needed to be given ruling power. Still, the discussion would be interesting, and perhaps someone had thought of something he hadn't.

Would it be improper, he wondered, for Tris to accompany him? As a fellow mage, of course. She would still be legally married to Briar, they had to finish out the year before that could be undone. But it would give both of them space if they needed it. The discussion may not accomplish it's goal, but it would give her an excuse to be gone for three to six months. And it would be to the north, in Olart, away from the influence of her family.

Niko was debating if a note would be sufficient to propose the idea, or if he should do it in person when there was a knock at his door.

"Enter," he called, and was surprised when Briar came in.

"Hello," the young man said with a nervous grin as he quickly shut the door behind him. He was dressed in clothes more suited to a day's work than a day's visit, but Niko only had eyes for the fact that Tris wasn't with him.

"What are you doing here?" Niko asked, rising in alarm as he did.

"Everything's fine," Briar quickly assured him as he walked closer to the desk. "May I...?" Niko waved at a chair, and Briar sat, twiddling his fingers as blooms opened and closed in quick succession on his skin. "I came because I need to talk to you about something," the plant mage admitted, voice steady though he still projected an aura of uncertainty.

"Go ahead, then," the great mage said, settling back in his seat as he gave the young man his full and formidable attention.

"I love Tris." Briar had meant to say more, but his throat suddenly grew tight and he found the words wouldn't come. Niko watched, silent, as the young man strove to master himself, blinking rapidly as he slowly pressed a hand to his chest where his heart felt like it was going to burst from his chest. "Uh...excuse me," he went on unsteadily, "I..."

"You are overwhelmed," Niko replied in a quiet voice, gaze unwavering. "You've never declared it out loud to anyone else before, have you?"

"Not like that, no," his companion admitted with a weak chuckle. Niko cleared his throat and looked away, allowing the young man a moment to hastily wipe his eyes.

Eventually, Niko prompted, "And does she...?"

"We've talked, and she does," he said, a smile blooming on his face as the plant mage felt the warmth in his chest grow. "We're going to stay married, after her parents leave. She's...she's so amazing, Niko. I still can't quite believe..."

Niko considered his words, staring at the young man he had saved from a short life of hard labor with unblinking eyes. The too-skinny child had turned into a tall, lean man who looked at him now with hopeful defiance. He didn't need to cast his truth spell to confirm Briar's words, the truth reverberated inside his chest as it did when he knew the speaker well. He also didn't need to ask whether Briar would continue the relationship whether or not Niko approved. The man had chosen, and intended to keep his choice. Slowly he leaned forward, and said, "I believe you, but if you ever break your word to her, Briar..."

"They'll never find the body?" the young man guessed, chuckling nervously.

"They'll never know you existed in the first place." Briar believed him. Niko was a great mage, and had been allowed to study many things that were considered taboo for the purpose of knowledge. If anyone could pluck a single soul from the world and make it vanish so completely, it would be this man. "Why didn't Tris come with you?" the great mage went on, leaning back more comfortably in his seat with a slight smile.

"Because she would probably get upset if she knew you threatened me," Briar replied with a half-grin, his nervousness fading with Niko's quiet acceptance. "And I actually expected you to truth spell me too, which I knew she wouldn't like."

"She's like my daughter, I'm _supposed_ to threaten her suitors," Niko groused as he sat back in his seat. "And I don't need to use a truth spell on you, Briar. I learned to read you years ago. You _will_ take care of her." It wasn't a question.

"Yessir," the young man said, nodding respectfully.

Niko considered the young man, and said lightly, "Well, this should make things easier with her parents."

"That was my thought, sir," Briar admitted with a shrug, "though Tris has nixed all my plans so far."

The great mage paused, his smile turning wry. "Given the kind of plans I can imagine you making, I am not surprised."

"They were good plans," the young man defended himself with mock affront.

"I am certain they were good at many things," the mage replied with a straight face. "Good at getting you in trouble, good at getting mixed up, good at missing your goal..."

"You're probably right," Briar shrugged as he stood, grinning, "but I still would've enjoyed an excuse to kiss her."

"I suppose I should wish you luck," Niko said as he stood as well, holding his hand out to the young man. "She's not always an easy person to live with."

"Neither am I," Briar said bluntly. "I think we'll manage. Thank you, sir, for..." A great many ways to finish that sentence crossed Briar's mind. For not leaving me to die. For not leaving Tris to go crazy in the temple. For finding us a home, and bringing us together. For caring about what happened to four troublesome kids. For helping us become who we are today. He decided to go with, "-everything. We'll stop by soon for lunch, to catch up."

"I'd like that," the older man said as he stroked his moustache. His smile seemed to say he had heard all those unspoken sentences, and Briar left the small mansion with a spring in his step. He had Niko's...well, acceptance and maybe that counted as his blessing. He didn't see the older man invoking any god's name over the union, it just wasn't his way. He hurried home to give Tris the good news.

-090-

Sandry had been glad to get away from the Citadel early. The reported pirate activity this year had been thankfully mild, and it seemed their preparations would once again be enough to keep the worst of the sea-faring plague at bay. They had sunk two ships at sea the week before, and captured another. Those pirates taken prisoner would hang soon, and their slaves given care and food until they were ready to go free. Unfortunately, many would remain too ill or injured to be able to find work, and that had always bothered Sandry that many would be released only to beg on the streets or live in hovels in the Mires outside the city walls. Most wouldn't be able to read or write, and what reference could they give to try and find a good job? Her uncle wasn't a cruel man, but his mind didn't always consider these things in dealing with everything else.

This wasn't the only reason she had been ready to escape, though. They were preparing for another round of ambassadorial visits, and most of the keep had been turned upside down. Cleaning, it seemed, was required for everything according to the Seneschal. She understood the need for the work, it would not do to look anything less than their best with guests coming to visit. But it made it difficult to get anything done, when every room she went to was filled with maids and footmen busily cleaning everything in sight, and she had had enough.

The guards were quite happy to separate from the irritated mage at the front door, stabling their horses with the mule and settling in the open shed beside it for a break. The grounds were heavily warded, and if something got past them it was unlikely a few men with metal swords would be able to stop it.

Sandry strode in the front door, taking a moment to brush the road dust from her clothes before heading to the dining room. Daja was there, and her greeted her _saati_ with a smile as she set plates and silverware on the table.

"You're looking better than I expected," she said as she gave Daja a quick hug that was warmly reciprocated. "Where are your servants?"

"Marget had her baby early. They'll be back in a few days," her sister replied, picking up the tableware once more.

"Tris and Briar?" the stitch witch asked as she glanced around.

"In the kitchen." Daja meant to say more, but Sandry was already through the door and heading down the hall. The stitch witch stopped abruptly in the hallway, listening to the two talk as she realized what she was hearing. Briar was _flirting_ , and if Tris' responses were any indication she was _flirting back!_

He's gone too far this time, Sandry decided as she crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back, considering her options. She didn't want to embarrass Tris, it was possible her sister didn't even realize what she was doing. Briar, however, needed to be pinned back by the ears and given a very stern talking to. He was going to do real damage if he wasn't careful, and with Tris you never knew how that might end.

Stepping back up to the door, the stitch-witch was stopped by a firm hand on her arm. Turning back, she saw Daja standing behind her with a finger on her lips. Puzzled, she allowed herself to be draw back to the dining room and away from the other two.

"What?" she asked as the smith-mage glanced back to be sure they weren't noticed and grinned.

"Those two," the tall Trader woman said fondly as she picked up where her task had left off. "I'm not sure they'd notice the house burning down around them when they're like that."

"Then we should stop them," Sandry growled, glowering in the direction of the kitchen. "I _swear_ when I get my hands on Briar...!"

"Why?" her sister said, genuinely confused as she looked up from her task. "They're adults, Sandry, they can do what they like with whom they like, including each other."

"Yes, but this is Briar we're talking about," the noblewoman hissed, visibly upset. " _He's_ tossed aside more lovers than most people have in their entire lives. _He's_ not serious about this in the least! _He's going to hurt Tris!_ "

Daja paused, studying her sister seriously for a moment before asking quietly, "Why would he do that?"

"Because, to him it's a game!" her companion cried, barely controlling her voice. "And she doesn't know the rules! He's going to wrap her around his little finger, just like he does the others, and when he decides he's had enough she's not going to know how to let go. If that's the way he wants to conduct himself, fine. He's an adult, he can do what he likes just like you said. But he _isn't_ going to do it to _my sister_ -!"

"And if she wants him to?" Daja asked mildly. "They haven't really told me what happened yet, but from what I can see this is entirely mutual. They've been circling each other for weeks, and I'm surprised it took as long as it did for them to make a decision."

"And you didn't _tell me?_ We could have stopped this before the ball, if I'd-"

"Stop," the smith said, putting her hands back on Sandry's shoulders. "And think. Tris is an adult. Would you have any objections if Tris had started seeing someone else?"

"Well, no," Sandry admitted grudgingly. "Not if I had no real reason to."

"What would be a reason to object?" the Trader woman went on reasonably.

"If they treated her poorly," her sister snapped as though losing patience. "Or if she didn't know something about them, that they were likely to be unfaithful or were just using her."

Daja nodded, despite the tone those were good reasons. "And if you told her your objections, and she refused to listen?"

"Then..." The noblewoman paused, shrugging irritably. "I don't know. I guess it would depend."

As it wasn't really part of her point, her companion let it go and moved on. "Right. Well, in this case, is Briar known for unfaithfulness?"

"Well, not exactly no," Sandry agreed grudgingly. "He would have multiple 'friends' at a time sometimes, but they always knew about each other."

The smith ticked off another point on her fingers. "Is Briar treating her poorly? Or using her in some way? Has he ever done that to any woman, honestly?"

"No," her sister agreed through gritted teeth, "he hasn't. He's always been upfront about his intentions."

"So, I think it's probably safe to say he's done the same thing here," Daja said as though the logic was plain. "And if he's stated his intentions and she's flirting with him still, then she's agreed to whatever it is they're doing. If she's agreed to it, Sandry, there's nothing short of telling her parents the truth and making them take her to Ninver that could stop them. And even then, he has enough coin to uproot himself and follow her. Is that what you want to do?"

"No," her sister huffed, folding her arms over her chest. "But what if he does hurt her, even if she did agree to whatever this is. What do we do?"

"We thump him and comfort her," the smith said with a wide smile that faded a bit as she added, "Assuming, of course, that it wasn't something they couldn't control. Like when we left Namorn. Did you blame Rizu for deciding to stay even though it broke my heart?"

Sandry had the grace to look uncomfortable as she muttered, "Well, I mean, I had hoped she would come for your sake. And I was sad because you were hurting. But I didn't _blame_ her for anything. I understood why she chose to stay." The stitch witch paused, looking down before saying quietly, "I see what you're trying to do, Daja, but I still don't agree."

"Then at least wait until after dinner to say something," the smith mage countered coaxingly. "Give them a chance to, I don't know, convince you. Either way, if at the end you still feel like you need to intercede, then do so. Just remember they may not listen to you. Personally, I think they're fine. If I had thought he was going to use her or abuse the situation, or that Tris couldn't handle him, I wouldn't have agreed to them marrying in the first place."

Being told she was not in control was not something Sandry was used to, but it was something she had to accept. The noblewoman agreed, quietly, and Daja breathed a sigh of relief as she went back to her work.

Briar poked his head in right then, his hands full of pitchers of chilled juice and tea. "Daj', where do you- Sandry! When did you get here?" The question began as a demand and ended far too casually. He stance reminded his sister as nothing so much as a boy knowing he was likely to be scolded very shortly.

"Not long ago," she said with a slight smile, enjoying watching him squirm. It had never been easy catching Briar on the wrong foot, and had only grown harder with age. "I was...talking to Daja."

He glanced at the tallest of his sisters, then back to Sandry with a suspicious frown. "She told you, didn't she?"

"I'll go see if Tris needs a hand," Daja offered by way of answer, slipping around him to the kitchen. The ex-thief eyed his sister warily, setting the pitchers down and wiping his hands on his shirt. It didn't leave a mark, she had made them, but the action still made her wince.

"Do you have something you want to say?" she asked when the silence began to stretch.

"I was waiting to see if I'd be able to say it over you yelling," her brother said frankly, still keeping his distance. The noblewoman may be small, but she could hit surprisingly well. He and Daja had taught her how, after all.

Sandry took a deep breath to stop her knee jerk retort, the criticism may not be pleasant but was probably well-earned. "I promise not to yell until you're done saying it," she said carefully, folding her hands in front of herself.

Briar accepted the promise immediately, saying, "Ok, then. I love Tris. I don't mean, she's a nice armful and we're going to spend a few weeks tumbling and that's it. I mean, I love her, and I don't want anyone else other than her ever again. And for some reason I still have a hard time believing, she loves me too. We're staying married, and that's it."

Sandry did not immediately respond. Whatever she thought her brother had been going to say, that had not been it. He stared back at her intently, wary but determined to remain steadfast regardless of what she said. Carefully she took a step forward, putting her finger under his nose in warning.

"If this is a game," she said softly, "you will regret it."

"Yes, I would," he agreed softly, "because it would hurt the woman I love the most."

It was the resolution to not budge an inch that finally convinced her. Sighing, she backed away with a rueful smile. "Does Tris know about...?" His sister meant about their agreement from before. If Tris had chosen Briar, the weather witch would not look kindly on anything intended to keep them apart.

"No," he said. "It hasn't come up. I don't think it ever needs to."

It was a concession she had not expected, and she nodded thankfully. Daja called for them to come help get the food, and both obeyed quickly. Whatever Tris had made for dinner, it smelled amazing and everyone was eager to eat.

The chicken was perfectly cooked, with crispy skin and juices pooling beneath it. The potatoes, carrots and beans were each rising with steam, and the gravy looked delicious. It didn't take long for them to seat themselves and begin passing around the food. Briar had murmured to Tris in passing before they sat that Sandry knew, and was fine with it. The weather witch had been startled, but relieved, and decided if no one else was going to bring it up she wasn't either.

"Tris," Daja said as they settled in to eat, "Do you have an order yet from Dame Dominique?"

Briar paused, his fork halfway to his mouth as he stared at his wife who answered mildly, "No, it will probably be next week before the testing is finished. Sandry, did Yazmin tell you about it?"

"She did," the stitch witch said with a glance of confusion at her brother. He still sat as one frozen, eyes wide in disbelief. "And according to her the testing is going well. It should not be much longer before you hear from them. Briar, is everything alright?"

The ex-thief set his fork down, and was staring at Tris with a blank look on his face. His wife met his eyes, frowning slightly. "Briar?"

"What, exactly," he asked softly, "are you making for Dame Dominique and how do I not know about this?"

"Charms to keep people from being shocked by clingy fabrics," she replied promptly, adding wryly, "and I don't know how you could have missed it. You were at the table when Daja and I were discussing the possible commission. It was Yazmin's idea, and she introduced me to Dame Dominique last week."

"I see." Briar had no explanation as to how he had missed that particular conversation, and his brain was too full of possible ways in which his wife might be getting paid to care. Some coin, of course, but oh Mila he hoped she had negotiated for part of her payment to be in goods.

"I was actually going suggest a meeting for you as well," Tris went on, taking a sip of her chilled juice. "She is trying to expand some of her shop to include other items related to her...trade. If you made some specialized perfumes for her, she would probably pay a hefty commission." The weather witch actually had a few other thoughts on some scented items Briar could provide, but she would not be mentioning them at the table if she ever gave voice to those thoughts at all.

"I'll think about it," he said, drawn out of his daydream by the business potential. Dreams were nice, but coin is what made dreams reality. "Maybe in the late fall when business slows down." His stock would be at it's best then, harvested at it's peak and properly seasoned in sealed bottles. He would have to see.

"Good luck to you all, but I don't think I'll be joining this collaborative business venture," Sandry said, rolling her eyes. Not that Yazmin hadn't tried to convince her to do so already. "But onto other news, Yazmin did say her friend gave her one of the charms to try and she found it very useful. I am doing my best not to imagine what she means by that, but I did want to pass along the compliment. I know when you made my rods you weren't certain you could make the charm work on something smaller."

"I did some more research," Tris admitted, cutting her chicken neatly off the bone. "And Daja tried a new blend of metals in the cast. It worked."

"Good!" Sandry said, clearly impressed. "And speaking of Daja, I want to know what happened the other day. You said you would explain at dinner."

The smith mage sighed, but told the tale. It was a fairly short task. She had laid the iron pieces out on a special canvas outside the house, and prepared them for the final placing. Her work had gone smoothly, right up until the curious mage-pet the patron kept around tried to touch one of the pieces. The magic she had laid over it was not yet properly set, and she had jerked it wholesale away from his questing fingers and back into her. The piece would need to be remade, for having the magic ripped from it so carelessly had turned it to rust. The owner had been furious with her, until she had explained herself between bouts of retching. Then he had turned on his pet.

"He said he had a license, but wouldn't show it to me," Daja said with a sigh. "I should have insisted. If he's trained, he either forgot everything he ever learned or had connections that got him through despite his lack of qualifications. At the very least, he'd have lost a hand touching a piece of my work unprotected. At worst, he might have lost his life."

"Then you did more than the bleater deserved, saving him like that," Briar said between bites of chicken and gravy. He shifted over in the process of snagging another biscuit, and after the fact sat with his leg pressed against Tris'. Sandry probably wouldn't have noticed, except the resident weather mage now sported a soft line of pink across her cheeks. "Should've let him," her husband went on as he casually settled an arm about his wife's waist, "Would've been doing mages as a whole a favor getting rid of a _naliz_ like that."

"I didn't want an investigation," Daja said, rising to refill her cup of chilled tea. "Not into my work, anyways. You know you aren't allowed to continue to work for coin if the safety of your work comes under question until a conclusion has been reached. His death could have caused me months of grief. I still intend to report him, if he is licensed he shouldn't be and if he isn't he's lying and can be charged with impersonating a trained mage. The Council takes both matters seriously, and I'm going to make sure it's seen to. Someone less strong than I attempting such a thing...they could be seriously injured and not just inconvenienced for a few days."

"I wouldn't call sicking up for half a day and barely able to walk merely an 'inconvenience'," Tris said with a snort.

"Well, that's the whole of it one way or another," Daja said as she helped herself to more chicken. "The nobleman did tell me he wants it fixed and for me to return to install it. I doubled the price. He's still willing to pay. I'll start work tomorrow. Tris, this chicken is amazing. Did you do something different?"

"Not that I know of," her sister said with a shrug.

"It is unusually tender tonight," Sandry said with a quick smile. "It's a good thing one of us can cook well, or we'd be spending a small fortune on eating houses to have a meal this fine as often as we do."

"That's silly, you all can cook passably well when you have to, and our cook is rather good as well," she said as she waved a hand dismissively. "I have news," the weather witch added as she pulled a folded envelope out of her pocket. "My parents are throwing a ball for my father's birthday, and we are all invited."

"Why are they celebrating here?" Daja asked, looking confused. "Wouldn't it be better to wait until they had returned home?"

"It's an excuse to impress their new business contacts," Tris explained dryly. "They will throw a party that is impressive without being lavish or wasteful. It will showcase their wealth and their prudence. Our invitation is probably to impress the guests as much as the party, but I hope you will still come."

"Will there be dancing?" Briar asked, perking up.

"Yes," Tris replied with a small smile.

His smile grew, but he kept his eyes on his plate as he said, "Then I'll be there."

"I am coming as well," Sandry said, glancing at Daja with a half-smile. "Yazmin already informed me of it as her troupe is invited as is going to perform. Daja, I believe your friend will be among them."

"I suppose I can make an appearance," the smith mage said with a grin. "Tris, I might need your help preparing again."

"I can help you practice," the weather witch replied simply.

 _Practice what?_ Briar asked, clearly blocking out their sisters.

 _Dancing,_ Tris admitted, giving him a puzzled glance.

Briar looked at Daja, who was smiling far too sweetly. _Don't_ , he told her warningly for her mind alone. _I mean it._

 _Don't what?_ His sister replied, far too innocently with a smug smile.

 _You_ know _what,_ he growled, glaring as her smile grew.

"Briar, why are you glaring at Daja?" Sandry asked, having heard none of it and looking thoroughly confused.

"He thinks I'm going to steal all of Tris' time in the evening away from him," the smith mage said with a taunting smile. "Which I might, depending on how much time I need." Briar's glare stopped only when he caught his wife's level look. Guiltily he softened his expression to a frown instead, still kept pointed at Daja, until he noticed Tris' level look had evolved to a flat stare.

"What?" he asked, sounding defensive as he crossed his arms. "She provoked me!"

"Do you really think-" Tris cut off abruptly as she realized what she was about to say outloud. Flushing slightly, she switched to their bond. _Do you really think I would let her? Do you think you are the only one who wants to have time alone together after a day spent apart? Do you think I would be so blind as to fall for such a silly ploy?_

 _No_ , he admitted reluctantly, to all of it. _I just..._

 _You just let her wind you up like a child's plaything,_ she finished tartly. _And now you're acting jealous of her, our_ sister. _I don't even like women like that, Briar. Even if she did need me for an entire evening, what do you think would happen?_

 _I don't know,_ he grumbled, feeling foolish now. _I'm sorry. I told you I might be an idiot again._

 _I know_ , she said, sighing physically as she rubbed at her nose. That's when she noticed her audience.

Sandry and Daja watched, one carefully and the other with unconcealed glee as the weather witch began to flush once more. Clearing her throat, the redhead said curtly, "I can help you some, Daja, but you know I have other things to do too."

"I'll be sure to be respectful of your time," the taller woman said with a broad grin at Briar. "Wouldn't want someone to get scared up on the third floor all by themselves, would we?"

"Daja, you shouldn't tease Briar," Sandry put in, her tone entirely serious as she added, "It's not his fault Tris already has him completely broken to saddle." She hadn't needed to hear the argument to know who had come out on top. Briar had all but wilted under Tris' firm look, and his face had been almost apologetic at the end. Maybe she had misjudged Tris' ability to play this particular game, even if she didn't know all the rules.

"And now I'm leaving," Briar said after a glance at his wife who was trying not to laugh. "They'll be nicer to you. Tell me when you're ready to go up, and I'll meet you at the stairs."

 _Do you want me to come too_? she asked him with a glance over her shoulder.

 _No, stay and talk. I'll steal some cookies from the kitchen and listen from my workroom. It will be safer for me there._

Tris caught her sisters watching her again and flushed. "There's cookies in the kitchen," she said as she started to rise and gather everyone's used plates.

"I'll get them," Daja said as she rose as well. "You stay and talk to Sandry. We haven't seen much of her for awhile." She smoothly took the gathered plates from Tris and gently pushed her back into her seat across from the noblewoman.

Sandry met her gaze uncertainly, and they both paused for a moment before the stitch witch blurted, "So you and Briar...?"

"Yes," Tris said, linking her hands together so they couldn't fidget nervously with her fork. "He and I are...together."

"And...you're sure...?" The words sounded odd even to the noblewoman's ears, but it was hard not to be accusing.

"I am. I've never been more sure of anything." Her sister paused deliberately, watching her carefully before she added, "Are you upset by that?"

"No," Sandry said hesitantly. "I'm just...I don't want to see you hurt. And especially not by Briar."

"He will hurt me," Tris said with a wry smile. "And I'll hurt him. But that's the nature of relationships, I think. I'm not perfect, and neither is he. So we're going to make mistakes that hurt, sometimes. But I'm still choosing this, Sandry. I love him."

It was the stitch witch who stood first, tears in her eyes at the sincerity of her sister's words. There was guilt there, for her assumptions and interference, but also relief and joy. Reaching for Tris, they hugged fiercely as the tiny blonde whispered, "I'm so very happy for you. And I wish you both the absolute best."

"Thank you."

Arms strong from hours at the forge wrapped around them both, lifting them into the air for a moment as Daja squeezed tight. "Daja!" Sandry protested when they were back on the ground, rubbing at her side. "You about squeezed the life from me!" Still, the noblewoman's smile was broad as she met the redhead's grey gaze.

"Yes, that's what a proper hug does," the smith mage replied with an unabashed grin. "Now let's sit and eat these excellent cookies and dig for details that will make Tris blush. We've already been mean enough to Briar, it's her turn."

"Yes, you were mean to Briar," Tris agreed with a sigh. "You shouldn't have gone that far."

"I'm sure you'll kiss his boo-boos and make him feel better." Daja's tone was teasing, but she let it drop when she met the weather mage's level gaze. "Alright, I will apologize later. I might have gone too far."

"Thank you."

"Actually, I would like to know how this happened," Sandry put in, taking her seat as she took a cookie from the plate. "I mean, where it came from. You weren't in love with him from the beginning, were you?" She couldn't help the slightly accusatory tone that crept in at the end, if Tris had been keeping secrets again then she couldn't be blamed entirely for the misunderstanding.

"No, not in that way," Tris said quickly, sitting once more. "I loved him, but it was the way I loved you. As a close friend and family member. I hadn't...considered him in that light before." To herself she added, _at least not since we were children_. Briar had shot up one summer, gaining five inches of height in a very short amount of time. Tris had realized then that she liked how tall he was compared to her. It made her feel safe, standing next to him. Not that she had ever told him that.

That was when the weather witch remembered Briar was in the back of her mind.

 _Well_ , Briar said with obvious pleasure in his mental voice, _that explains more than it doesn't._

"She's blushing again," the stitch witch said with a soft 'tsk'. "Do you think it's from her, or did Briar say something to her?"

"Could be both," Daja replied with a knowing grin.

"Anyways," Tris said, striving to remain on topic and control her blush. She only managed one of the two. "Things started to change after the ball. It took awhile for us to admit our feelings for one another, to ourselves and to each other. When we did, it was actually because my mother had made a mess of things trying to be helpful." Quickly she described her mother's visit, and the request to see the wedding dress. About the beautiful tangled mess that had been made of the cords, and how she hadn't been able to remove the garment herself without harming it.

"I would have come from the palace to help, if you had asked," Sandry said gently as Tris paused to wet her throat.

"I honestly didn't even think to ask," her sister replied ruefully. "Although I wish I had, now. Actually removing the knots took hours, and it was not exactly a pleasant experience."

"Not your romantic ideal?" Daja teased lightly. "Being undressed by the man you love?"

"When it takes three bells, and you have to listen to him curse in frustration the entire time, no," Tris replied bluntly, and her sisters laughed. Through the bond she could feel her husband grumble about how that _wasn't his fault_ , and she was able to grin without blushing further.

"I want to know something," Sandry said, a thought coming to her. "How did Rosethorn and Lark find out first?"

Her sister considered refusing to answer the question, but then told the story quickly. If she didn't explain, they would go ask the dedicate herself. Rosethorn wasn't known for embellishing details, but she would likely laugh herself into an early grave with the retelling. She did gloss over what her and Briar had been doing before Rosethorn's arrival, but given her blush and inability to look them in the eye, they both likely had a pretty good idea. The dedicate crying she was laughing so hard was given a decent description, though, and the pair couldn't hide their amusement as the redhead grumbled about turnabout _not_ being fair play.

"At any rate," Tris went on dryly, "she gave us her and Lark's formal blessing. And...some advice." It was not a hard decision to keep that advice to herself as she went on, "She also added if they hadn't approved, the whole thing would have gone rather differently."

"And Niko knows now too?" Daja asked, though she already knew the answer. Briar had arrived back first, and his description of the conversation had been both amusing and terrifying. They had both agreed it would be best not to tell Tris those particular details.

"Yes, Briar spoke to him today. He said it went well." Tris frowned, thinking aloud. "I think that just leaves the servants when they get back..."

"They think you're already together," Daja said with a shrug. "So no need to tell them anything."

Tris went scarlet in the face, and Sandry covered her laugh with a hand. Briar's flash of surprise through the bond was not enough to stop her from gasping, "They...what?!"

"The housekeeper asked me awhile back if I was sure the marriage was an act," the smith mage explained lightly. "I made clear that whatever it was it was with your consent and not our business unless it became a problem."

"Define 'problem'," the weather witch said sharply.

"Lightning setting my roof on fire. Tanglevine taking over my house. Servants getting caught in the crossfire," her sister said with a straight face. They all knew she was joking, but Tris' face reddened further just the same.

"That won't happen," she said, attempting to regain control of herself.

"Then there won't be any problems," Daja rejoined smartly. "And thus it was never their business."

The teapot was empty, and Tris offered to refill it as Sandry fought the urge to laugh. She tried to accept their teasing with good grace. Rizu had never been the butt of their jokes, something about that relationship had been too fragile to poke fun at, but other potential suitors had been fair game for teasing. Sandry hadn't been allowed to forget her infatuation with Shan for nearly a year after they left Namorn, and Briar had been ragged relentlessly when one of his picks had decided to pursue Daja instead. The only reason Tris had escaped had been a lack of suitors to tease about, and the lack had always been left untouched.

Stepping into the kitchen, she got a good breeze from the window she left open to help clear out the heat. The first thing she noticed was the smell of rain in the air, and the second was how close it was. The clouds she had noted the day before, but they had been far to the south and she hadn't expected them to make it to Emelan, let alone in less than a week. The winds off the Pebble Sea must have been more relentless than she had expected. It would rain in less than a bell.

Heading back into the dining room, Tris asked Sandry when she was planning on leaving. The stitch witch admitted to having planned on a long evening. Her sister explained about the rain, and all of them knew enough not to question her.

"I can probably slow it," Tris said as she put the fresh teapot on the table. "But it will be a soaking downpour when it hits and it will last at least a few bells. If you want to miss it you can either plan to be here much later than before, or leave now. I can probably slow it enough to be sure you make it to the Citadel in time, but I can't push it through fast enough to get you home before too late without unbalancing everything else around us."

"Then I will head back," Sandry said, rising quickly. Her clothes were of her own make, of course, but they were not rainy day apparel. And mud was so very difficult to remove thoroughly from light linen. "It was not my intention to stay _that_ late, and Uncle still wishes to speak with me this evening. Thank you for the warning, and the help."

Tris demurred, it really wouldn't be more than a moment's work to do so for her sister, and kissed her goodbye. Briar came from the workroom at her mental call, and they passed as she headed for the stairs.

"Be up in a minute," he told her with a wink. She didn't reply, but her cheeks when pleasantly pink.

Briar grinned to himself and kissed Sandry and Daja both on the cheeks as one prepared to leave and the other prepared to sleep.

"You're sure you won't keep me up tonight?" Daja asked, only half teasing as they walked Sandry to where her guards were mounting up. "I really do need to sleep..."

"You won't hear a thing," Briar promised gallantly. "Not unless you're trying to eavesdrop. I make no promises then."

"Who would want to?" Daja rejoined. "Spying on you two would be beyond gross and weird."

"Then if you don't sleep like an angel, it won't be because of us," her brother said with certainty.

The smith's snort of disbelief was not serious, and Sandry laughed. They saw her out the door to her guards, and waved until they were trotting down the street. Daja locked the doors as Briar moved the dishes to the kitchen and put away what little food was uneaten from the meal. The smith mage was still tired from her ordeal, though, and ascended the stairs with Briar a short time later for her bed. Briar continued past her floor, taking the steps two at a time as he hurried to be with his wife.

Tris stood still as a statue, aside from the fingers that pulled rhythmically through the undone braid pulled free of her snood. The other hand rested lightly on the balcony railing, holding her spectacles as her eyes gazed sightlessly into the distance.

 _Are you here?_ The words were asked carefully, Briar coming up beside her but keeping his hands to himself. He could see no lightning, but that was never a guarantee of anything with her.

 _Almost done_ , she replied faintly, as though from very far away. Which she probably was, if the stillness of her body was any indication. _Sandry will have enough time with her guards to get back._

He nodded, asking, _Did it take much effort?_ The question was twofold, first to ascertain if he needed to get anything for her as a result of her work and second to determine if she would be going straight to bed afterwards. The young man couldn't help the hope that she wouldn't be too tired to spend some time with him before sleep. However that time might be spent.

 _Almost none,_ she said, amusement coloring her mind as though she sensed his thoughts. _I just encouraged the rain to conserve its strength a bit. It will slow its advance by perhaps half a bell, no more._

 _Sandry will still appreciate it,_ he said, smiling to himself.

Tris blinked as she returned to her body, wincing as the pins and needles that always came from standing still so long set in. "Mmm...that part never gets any easier," she grumbled as she quickly replaced her glasses on her blade-thin nose.

"Planning on staying out and enjoying the rain?" he asked as he took one of her arms and helped her to a rocking chair. His wife accepted the help gratefully, tottering on unsteady legs as she walked.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's not a proper storm. There will be hardly any thunder, and no real lightning to speak of. And it's not worth changing for something that will be just a gentle rain in comparison."

Briar didn't bother to try and hide his grin. "That's too bad, I like that dress," he said, dropping into the chair next to her. He could smell the rain now, and faintly see the clouds in the distance. There was no thunder, or lightning, but the air felt heavy with the coming storm. The breeze was picking up, and the air was almost cool.

"You mean you like how much leg it shows," she groused, flushing again.

The young man turned to catch his companion's eyes, and said seriously, "Leg isn't the only thing that dress shows, and I like all of it." The blush grew worse.

"Do you mind if the doors stay open again?" Tris asked as she tore her eyes away, wishing her face didn't feel like it was about to catch on fire. The prickles and pins had finally left her legs, and she felt steadier than before. Carefully she stood, using the excuse of stretching carefully to turn away from him. What she didn't realize was how that stretching outlined her curved form for Briar to watch with pleasure.

"Not at all." Her husband replied, standing as well as he admired the woman he loved. Teasing, teasing woman. The fact that it was unintentional made it all the more appealing. "I was wondering..."

"Yes?" Tris replied as she turned to face him, her cheeks still pink with her flush.

"Do you know what you're wearing to your father's party yet?" he asked, as he took her hand to draw her close. He didn't need to touch her, but he did want to. The day had seemed very long knowing where she was the entire time and not being able to be next to her every single minute.

"I haven't decided," she said as she let him, willing to admit to herself that she had missed the feel of his arms around her. "But...if we're going to be dancing, I will probably wear my grey boots."

"Really?" he asked, unable to hide the note of hope in his voice as he leaned down to kiss her forehead. "I wouldn't object to that. Or if you wore anything else that matched them..." The way the sentence trailed off made her look up to catch a guilty look on his face. The corset that he was only supposed to have 'peaked' at, she thought as satisfaction and pleasure welled up inside.

"I have a feeling you will be encouraging me to wear them a lot," she said, letting his guilt pass unremarked as she considered the dancing boots. "The leather is fairly thin. If I wear them more often I will have to be careful they do not wear out. I know Daja got them on trade for some work, but if we must purchase replacements that could get expensive..."

"Which reminds me of something else I want to discuss with you," Briar admitted with some reluctance. That made his wife perk up with quiet alarm, but he led her inside to the table and chairs and sat, pulling her into his lap as he did.

"There is a perfectly good chair next to this one," she pointed out even as she settled herself more comfortably across his legs.

"Yes," he agreed with a wide smile as he inhaled her scent. "But it doesn't put you nearly close enough after a day not spent next to you. Besides, I like it when you're on top. It's a...favorite." His grin was smug, up until she kissed him.

"Are you sure this isn't too distracting?" she asked some time later, breathing a little heavily.

"You could be on the other end of the Duke's ballroom and still be distracting," he informed her seriously as he reached up to claim her lips once more.

Eventually Tris came back to herself enough to ask, "You wanted to talk about something?" Her voice was higher than she liked, but the satisfaction from him having to clear his throat twice before he could say a word made up for it.

"I did. Yes." Gruffly Briar cleared his throat again, trying to pull his head out of the clouds and into the present topic. He would need his wits about him for the conversation at hand. Perhaps having her in his lap hadn't been such a good idea after all. Of course, now that she was here he had no thought of having her move away. It would be rude. "It's about money."

"Hmm." That was all Tris needed to express her displeasure, combined with thinned lips and a slight frown it was clear he was on dangerous grounds. The look she gave him was suspicious, and he quickly held up a hand when it seemed like she might start to speak.

"No, hear me out," he said, trying to sound reasonable and logical. That usually worked best with Tris when trying to persuade her of something she wouldn't like. "I want us to combine everything. Like the Traders say, One life, one ledger. We don't worry about who puts in what or who takes out what so long as there's enough for both of us."

"And what if I never sell another charm?" she asked, her voice calm but tight.

"Then we'll live off what I bring home," he said promptly. "And if I never sell another tree, we'll live off what you make. I don't see either scenario being very likely, but if we're married and we're staying married I still think we should. It will simplify the money, for one thing, and if your parents have any doubts that should make it clear we have no intention of separating, ever." It wasn't nearly as interesting a solution as being caught doing something naughty in the gardens, but it would be effective.

Tris had to admit that for that reason alone it made sense. If her parents had asked, the reason their finances remained separate was to have been the complexity of their separate businesses. Which was ridiculous, but she had hoped that with magic involved her father wouldn't see straight through the lie. It had never come up, though, and now it would be silly to keep things separate. Except..."I feel like this is going to benefit me more than you, and I don't like that," she told him stoutly, shifting so there was some space between them.

"For now, maybe," her husband agreed carefully, "but I don't think that will be the case forever. You're just now scratching the surface of what you can do with your power, and I think given how brilliantly clever and stubborn you are you will never stop pushing to learn more. You are going to do incredible things, things wealthy bags will pay through the nose for. And putting our money together now just means I will get to enjoy it just as much as you when you do." Briar added his most winning smile at the end, hoping it would be enough.

"How are you always able to make it sound like you're getting the better deal even I know that's not true," Tris replied, not quite convinced.

Briar stifled the urge to roll his eyes. "That entirely depends on your perspective."

"And _if_ I agree to this," the redhead in his lap went on slowly, "how much money will you be bringing to the table?"

The plant mage suddenly looked uncomfortable, and with his words he had good reason. "I actually don't know."

Tris nearly started up out of her seat in shock. "How can you not know? We taught you to keep a ledger."

"I have a few hundred astrals in the money house I use," he explained. "The one we all use. Most of what was there two moons ago I paid to your father for your bride price. But like any thief worth his salt, that is is not where most of my wealth is."

"In your trees?" she asked, thinking of the several fine specimens lining his workshop. He had been in a buying streak that winter and spring, acquiring several more than he sold. That would change, it always did, and then he would begin the cycle again. It would make sense if he couldn't put an exact value on them. You never really knew what an item was worth until someone else's coin was in your hands.

The young man winced, then said, "Partially. But most of it is in something Evvy and I worked out while we were traveling. She would tell me which stones to buy, diamonds and the like, and then she...worked on them. Sometimes she was wrong, or made mistakes. But most of the time whatever we brought back we at least doubled what we had paid for it originally. It was a good way to transport our wealth, though, and we were careful only to sell a few at a time as we went. When we got back, we split what we hadn't sold fairly. Rosethorn, with her vows against material gain, refused to accept any. I have most of mine in my workroom, hidden. I sell one or two, when I need to, but my trees have been enough that I rarely do."

Tris supposed she shouldn't have been surprised, but the thought of that much wealth squirreled away somewhere in the house made her merchant senses itch. Money that was hidden away and not working was money not put to good use. "How many do you have?" she asked, the question popping out thoughtlessly.

"Around twenty the size of my thumb," he said, sticking up the said appendage for reference. "Maybe four or five dozen half that size. And I don't even know how many of the small ones there are off the top of my head."

Tris stared at him in amazement. "And they're _all_ diamonds?!" she hissed, unsure if it was in anger or why she should be angry. But still, that many diamonds, and just sitting in a drawer somewhere...!

"Lakik's teeth, no!" he cried, and something in her chest relaxed.

"Oh, good, I was-"

"About half are diamonds," he cut in, unaware of his wife freezing in his lap as he went on. "The rest are a mix of sapphires, emeralds, and rubies with a few large garnets and several small purple ones I can never remember the name of." Tris forced herself to breath, air was necessary for life to continue, but she couldn't stop staring at him in disbelief. "I have them all labeled," her husband admitted casually as though he had just revealed nothing of great import. "I made sure to, because I can't tell half of them apart."

"Really?" she asked, for some reason even more surprised by that.

"The glitter all looks similar to me," he said with a careless shrug. "I couldn't write or read as a child, and the gang was more concerned with me knowing how to pick a pocket than tell shiny stones apart. I was going to ask for your help anyways. Glaki said I let myself get cheated the last two times I sold one off, but she refuses to come and help. She says I'm an adult and can see to my own troubles."

"Does she still sell and buy precious stones?" Tris asked, curious for some reason despite everything else she had just learned.

Briar nodded, his grin a touch proud. "Yes, she's got a sizable amount set aside for when she gets her medallion, actually. It pays for her student fees at the temple."

The weather witch shook her head suddenly, the memory of all that wealth overwhelming her once more. "Briar, I can't accept your-"

"Ours," he corrected her quickly, taking her hands in his and holding them firmly. "It's not mine, it's ours." The young man's smile turned warm as he added, "I like the sound of that, 'ours'. Our money, our business, our life." Gently drawing her close, he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Our bed."

"Don't try to distract me from this," she told him, less firmly than she liked but still enough to make him pause.

"I'm not," he protested, before catching her firm gaze. "Ok, maybe a little," he admitted, rolling his eyes, "but I mean this, Tris. I want us to share everything, and that includes the money. I don't care if we have a lot or a little as long as we have each other."

"And if I refuse?" she asked quietly, her gaze somber.

"I don't know," he admitted softly, "but it would hurt. It would sort of be like saying you don't trust me."

"That's ridiculous," she retorted quickly, and his brows rose in reply.

"Is it?" he asked, voice quiet. "What reason is there not to combine everything?"

"What if this doesn't last?" The question was thoughtlessly tossed out, and she immediately regretted it as his eyes showed pain.

"Do you plan on leaving me so quickly?" Briar said, completely serious for once.

"No," she admitted, flushing. "I can't imagine wanting anyone else but you." The words weren't hard to say, and were true, but embarrassment still made her skin turn hot.

Her husband's face remained sober as he said, "Then do you think it's because I'm going to leave?"

Tris did not immediately respond, and couldn't have said why. She did trust Briar, and if he said he wasn't going to leave then he wasn't. But still... "No, I don't think you will," she finally said, voice low. "I suppose I just have a hard time believing something this wonderful will last very long. Not because I want to leave but because life is not fair or kind."

"We're married. We should share everything, the best as well as the worst," her love said as he met her gaze firmly.

And she found that there was only one response. "Then...yes," she said as she leaned her forehead against his, eyes closed. "We will change it as soon as you want. One ledger, one life."

"Do you mean that?" he asked, reaching up to stroke her cheek.

"Yes," she said, certain once again that it was the right decision.

Briar kissed her, a feather touch on her lips as he said, "I love you."

"And I you."

The kiss did not remain light.

Tris was the one to suggest moving to the bed sometime later, a squeal escaping when Briar simply scooped her up as he stood. He was stronger than he looked and toppled with her into their stuffed mattress laughing at her struggling protest that he was going to drop her on the floor. He smothered those with his mouth, and she decided that was a much better occupation of her time.

-090-

Author's Notes:

And so things continue apace.

Thank you so much for your many wonderful reviews! I always enjoy hearing from everyone. And please remember to do so again. The end is in sight. :)

~CB~


	22. Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Daja walked into the kitchen the next morning, finding Tris there packing her basket of food for the day humming quietly as she worked with a half smile on her face. "That good of a night?" the smith asked, her own grin teasing.

Tris did not jump, or at least that's what she told herself, as she turned to face the taller woman with a bright red blush flooding her face. Which really, was answer enough by itself. Instead, she said, "Do you have anything to add to the cart for the market stall? Briar loaded his boxes yesterday before dinner."

"No," Daja said with a smile. "Thank you for checking, though. The stall is mostly for you and Briar, anyways. Most of my work is by commission. Is Briar up too?"

"He is," the weather witch confirmed, looking back down at her basket as though tying it closed were the most important task in the world. "He should be down shortly." She was not going to think about her wonderful wake-up, in his arms and- no. Later.

The smith mage didn't ask why her sister had turned such an interesting shade of pink with a smile on her face. She had a pretty good idea why. Had she been this bad, before? She didn't think so, but especially her time with Rizu seemed...odd. As though the only bits and pieces that were clear were the ones seared into her memory by impatient kisses and Rizu's warm smile. The others had been around, she was sure, but for some reason she couldn't remember them. Just Rizu. Maybe she had been prone to making ridiculous faces and blushing at odd times, if that was all she could recall. And smiling to herself like she had a secret. It was actually sort of disgusting, how had they restrained themselves from making fun of her for such ridiculous behavior?

Tris bid her sister goodbye, and Daja replied in kind as she continued to put together her meal. Leftover biscuits, real Trader tea and some jam wasn't bad, but she looked forward to their cook returning to her job. This just couldn't compare with fresh, hot porridge with dried fruit and nuts mixed in. Or eggs fried with sausage, and bread hot from the oven. She could try to put something together herself, but it wouldn't be as good and Tris wouldn't be back until tonight from the stall. She would have to figure out lunch and dinner as well. Shurri Firesword defend her from her own inability to prepare delicious food.

Briar entered in the middle of her reverie, a singularly satisfied grin on his face.

"Proud of yourself?" she asked, deciding teasing him would be better than lamenting what wasn't available for breakfast (or any other meal that day).

"I am," he admitted as he swiped a biscuit for himself and slathered it generously with butter. "I got Tris to agree with me on something last night, something I wasn't sure she'd ever agree to."

"I don't know," his sister replied in a slow drawl, "given the way she was kissing you I would think her agreeing to sleep with you would happen sooner rather than later..."

Her brother's sudden flush and embarrassed cough was not the reaction the smith mage had expected. "That's...not at all what I meant," Briar said uncomfortably as he refused to meet Daja's gaze.

The smith mage blinked, then said awkwardly, "Wait, you mean you...haven't...?"

"No," he admitted carefully, still not meeting her eyes. "We haven't."

"Why not?" The words had come unbidden, and Daja immediately added, "Not that it's my business, I just...I had assumed that..." That wasn't any better, she decided, as the words died in her mouth. "You don't have to tell me anything," she said, feeling like a fool for some reason. "It's...not my business."

Briar shrugged, sighing as he said, "It's...I don't know. I-" Whatever he had thought to say he quickly cut off, switching to, "It _is_ important, but doing... _that_...immediately isn't. We're...taking our time, I guess. Enjoying the scenic route?"

"So avoiding your room after dark is still a good idea," the smith mage quipped, feeling on firmer ground.

"Yes," her brother agreed with a wide grin. "Oh yes." He couldn't imagine Tris would ever be alright with letting someone else see her so undone. And in truth, it wasn't a sight or sound he was eager to share.

Daja nodded, carefully clarifying, "But not...that."

"Not yet," Briar amended with a shrug.

Curiosity made the mage ask, "Was this your idea or Tris'?"

"Both?" The ex thief shrugged again, adding, "Tris was the one who requested waiting a bit at first, but...I don't know, it's strange. Every other woman before there's been this urgency. Like, now or never. But with Tris, it's different. I want to, Shurri Firesword defend me I do, but I don't feel pressured to. Our time together isn't any less without it."

"So...you're happy like this?" Daja asked, clearly surprised, adding quickly, "So what did you get her to agree to?" It did not entirely distract Briar from his frown as he answered her in Trader speak.

" _One life, one ledger._ " It was a saying among the Traders, and part of their marriage vows. It had come up some moons ago, when the two had been enjoying lunch together outside during the insanity leading up to the wedding. Briar had asked out of curiosity about the Trader traditions surrounding such events. The smith mage had answered, to the best of her memory, about the lore and law that surrounded such events. She had not actually attended such an event in so long she could not be certain of all the details, but as to the ledger she had been certain. A marriage was not a marriage if the ledgers were not combined, and to separate them again was considered almost as terrible as being declared _trangshi_.

Daja's mouth fell open as she said, "Really? You _are_ being serious."

"What, you didn't believe me?" Briar retorted hotly.

"No, I did," his sister said quickly, wondering when she had developed such a talent for sticking her foot in her mouth. "I just never thought anyone would ever convince Tris to let them give her that much."

That, at least, the young man couldn't dispute. "I will admit, I wasn't sure she would accept. She did, though, and when we both have time we'll go to the money house and get everything arranged." The explanation was shortly given, his feathers still ruffled from the previous comments.

"Then I'm happy for you," Daja said, genuinely smiling as a tension she had not known was there eased in her chest. It was one thing to tease her siblings about sleeping together, but even with what she had seen and heard she supposed she had not really been certain. They were married, but the vows had been spoken with the intent of breaking them as soon as possible. This, though, combining their finances; that would make any sort of separation much more difficult. It spoke of a commitment and sincerity beyond what mere words could convey.

Briar's grin was marred by the half a biscuit he'd stuffed in his mouth, and he glanced about for something to wash it down with. A half-finished cup of tea sat on the table, and he picked it up quickly. If Tris had left it, she wouldn't mind him finishing it for her. Swallowing quickly, he paused at the aftertaste the drink left in his mouth. Working his tongue around in his mouth thoughtfully, he asked "Was this Tris'?", obviously confused.

"Yes, I think she left it on accident," his sister replied, in the process of preparing another biscuit for herself.

"Mm." Walking to the kitchen basin, he dumped it down the drain. "Not to my taste," he explained to her raised brow. Daja shrugged, and prepared to take the rest of her breakfast with her to the forge. It was time to begin her work. Briar searched through the cupboard as she left, finding an unmarked tin to the side that he hadn't seen before. Opening it, he sniffed the contents carefully before replacing the lid and putting it back where he found it. Pennyroyal, bluebud fern and something else that he thought was related to the flower called Queen's Lace. All of which had different medicinal uses save one: to prevent a woman from getting pregnant.

Well, he suddenly had a great many things to think about.

-090-

Tris decided working the stall wasn't so bad when she had Briar in the back of her mind. They never spoke, both were busy. The stall did a brisk business all day, and the plant mage had his garden to tend, but their minds would touch like a glance caught across a crowded room. A jolt of warmth, a surge of pleasure like a smile, and then the swirl of the crowd pulling them out of sight once more.

She still couldn't wait to be home.

Briar's mind had turned towards her often, she thought as she accepted coins from a millworker for a packet of heat teas. A farmer in for the market behind the worker was eyeing the sun creams. A faint pulse in the back of her mind distracted her only for a moment, but she still had to ask him to repeat his question before she could answer it. Yes, there were some without scent. Those with the white wax seals would only smell faintly of the aloe in them, nothing more.

Tris supposed she could not blame her husband. Or at least it would be unfair to be annoyed with such distractions when she was likely doing the same to he. The fact that he was in the garden instead of the market and so dealing with plants instead of people really wasn't his fault. Perhaps she should try to not think about him then, to keep his mind on the work at him. She wanted him finished after dinner so they could have the evening together, and they could not do that if he still had work to finish from his day.

Of course, thinking about not thinking about him only made her think about him more. Which made her feel guilty for not thinking about him as she had planned. Which in turn...it was not one of her better ideas.

Thankfully (or not, depending on your view of things) business picked up, and that did drive all thoughts of her handsome husband from her mind for a time.

-090-

Briar worked steadily. Much of his tasks each day were the same, for it was summer and summer meant weeding, weeding, weeding. It left his mind free to contemplate other things, and today it was full of something he had never actually considered before.

Children. Specifically, _his_ children.

The only conscious decision the plant mage had ever made about planting his seed was that he would not do it unknowingly. Rosethorn had been glad enough of that that she had helped him find his droughtwort, breed it to be especially effective, and kept a small reserve of the seeds herself in the event that something happened to his.

That he might, one day, want to have children of his own had never even occurred to Briar. Of course, he had never considered settling on only one woman before Tris, either, so maybe it shouldn't be that big of a surprise. Choosing her, choosing to _stay_ with her, was more complicated than he had imagined.

Children. _His_ children. His and _Tris'_ children.

The image of a small girl with a mane of tangled red curls popped into Briar's mind and immediately melted his heart. Of course, she probably wouldn't be as pale as Tris. Children were usually a mix of their parents. Her hair might even be black like his. Or they might have a boy, with red hair and green-grey eyes. Or black hair and grey eyes. Or-

Except, if Tris was drinking her own tea, did that mean she didn't want to have children?

For some reason, the thought was like a lump of cold lead settling uncomfortably into his gut. She hadn't said anything to him, but she did know he was drinking his droughtwort tea. Did she not trust him? She said she did, but if she was drinking her own tea and not telling him...

That road of thought was a dangerous one, he decided, and not worth pursuing to its end. Tris _did_ trust him, and if she had a reason to drink the tea it was good one and he needed to trust her in return that that was so.

For himself, though, he needed to give this serious thought. Did he want children? What were the odds of them being born with magic? Would it be more likely to be ambient or academic? Would they have their parents' magic? Did the possibility of his children having his ability make him any less or more likely to want to have some? What would he do if Tris decided not to have children? She was the woman, and therefore the one to actually give birth to the child. He wouldn't ask her to endure that if she did not want to, of that he was certain.

What about adoption? They were probably going to adopt Glaki eventually, Evvy too if she wanted. He still wasn't sure if the rock mage would like that or not. The girl was very independent, and even now spoke of going off to see the rest of the world with Luvo once she had earned her credentials as a mage. Would Tris be interested in adopting other children in need? Maybe special ones, like Evvy and Glaki, young mages with no one to turn to. He would like to do that. Helping Evvy had been more than a required duty, it had become a relationship that he would carry with him always. There really was something special between a teacher and a student.

Well, he thought as his hands continued their work, at least he had until tonight to work his mind around the ideas forming in his head. He could feel his wife in the back of his mind, her thoughts turning towards him ever so often. He kept his questions to himself, though, his half-formed thoughts and feelings would only distract her from her work. He had only the plants to deal with, she had to interact with actual people. People who would not be pleased to deal with a distracted shop-keeper in the marketplace.

Children.

It was going to be a very long day.

-090-

Valden didn't ask if he could accompany Darra to the temple, he was simply ready the next morning after her mentioning wanting to visit the night before. Then, upon arrival at the temple, he said off-handedly that he had a mind to walk the walls and explore some of the more interesting architecture of the main buildings. She would be bored by it, of course, and he was not averse to letting her see to her own interests for a few bells. He would meet her at the central tower, whenever her business had been concluded. Darra thanked him, hiding her smile. His intentions were well-meant, even if they had the subtlety of a hammer.

They parted on the winding path the temple was named for, the older woman following the gravel lane until she reached the cottage. Darra hadn't realized it last time, but she wondered now how she could have missed it.

Winding Circle Temple did wind about in a spiral, but it was still laid out in a logical order. The tower at the center, and the temple and other main buildings surrounding it. The dorms near the library, and within easy walk of the baths and eating hall. Further out were the workshops and crafthalls. Barracks and training grounds were near the gates and far walls, and the mending wing set off by itself. And then there was Discipline Cottage. Set alone, among the extensive gardens that made up most of the temple grounds, it looked oddly small and secluded compared to the rest of the extensive compound.

By it's name, one might think it a prison. In actuality, it was a refuge.

Darra did not bother with the front door. It was summer, and the hour was still fairly early. If Dedicate Rosethorn was not sick or seeing to temple duties, she would be in her garden.

The merchant wife rounded the small building, and found the dedicate kneeling among a line of tomato plants. The short, stocky woman looked up as soon as Darra stepped up to the even rows, not bothering to hide her surprise.

"Do you always drop in on people unannounced?" she asked bluntly, straightening from her work.

Darra flushed. "No," she admitted calmly. "I apologize. I should have sent word ahead of me."

The contriteness was an unexpected as the unannounced visit had been, and the dedicate replied, "Well, you're here now. Is there something you need? I am very busy today."

"I wished to speak with you some more," Darra said as she looked about the neatly tended garden. "I don't suppose there is anything I can help you with?" she asked, recognizing perhaps only half of the plants spread out around her. The look she got for her trouble was verging on rude with incredulity. "I haven't spent my whole life being pampered. I do know how to work," she added defensively.

Rosethorn decided free help shouldn't be scorned. "There's a bucket behind you," she said, pointing near her visitor's feet. "Fill the watering urns from the well if you want to help." The pottery jars were placed at intervals along the outside of the garden, with tiny holes drilled in each for water to dribble from. Though the offer had been freely given, the dedicate didn't quite believe the merchant wife would do it. She couldn't decide if she was pleased or annoyed when the woman made good on her offer.

"I came to apologize and to thank you," Darra said as she cranked up the well's bucket to fill her own. "I was not particularly respectful last time, and ignorant of many things. I see that now. You are right that Tris' scars are as much my fault as the people who gave them to her."

Her companion did not reply, but she was listening.

"Tris and I have spoken of it," the taller woman continued as she poured water from her bucket into a nearly-empty urn, "and she has forgiven me. My thanks are for mothering my daughter to be the kind of woman who can still forgive after such abuse."

Rosethorn's mouth lifted in a half-smile. "For that you should probably thank Lark and Sandry, they are the forgiving type," she told the woman honestly. "She certainly did not learn that lesson from me."

"Your gods do not call you to forgive those who have wronged you?" Darra asked curiously.

"Of course they do. But you need not be perfect to be a Dedicate of the temple. Only willing to serve and to try." Which, she admitted to herself, was the only reason she had been qualified to join the temple in the first place. Forgiveness had never come easy to the great mage, but she had learned to try. "You do not owe me an apology, for there is nothing to apologize for," she said gruffly, hands slowly removing dead leaves from one of her plants. "If Tris has forgiven you, then that is good. Wounds cannot fully heal until they are fully cleansed."

The merchant wife hid her smile as she went to fill her bucket from the well once more. It was hot, and sweat was streaming down her back now inside her dress, but she had nowhere important to be after this. Valden wouldn't mind, this wasn't a particularly nice dress, and for some reason earning the mage's respect had become very important to her. "I also wished to thank you for Briar. We have been impressed by him, in many ways, and as his mentor you likely had the greatest hand in shaping his life," she said when she returned with bucket full to the brim of water.

"He was a good student," her companion said simply, face turned away as she added, "I am proud of him."

"You should be. He has grown into a fine young man." Each urn was covered with a heavy, sieve-like lid. It kept most debris from entering the urn itself, but the water could be poured in without removing it. A clever design, the merchant thought to herself. She wondered who had made them, if there was anything like them in Capchen, and if there wasn't how to provide them to a new market of gardeners. She couldn't help it, the wondering was almost automatic now. "Do you remain close with many of your boarders like this?" she asked, when she realized how far offtopic her wandering mind had taken her and by extension how long the silence had stretched.

"No, those four were the first we kept that long," Rosethorn admitted, carrying a basketful of weeds to the edge of the garden for later disposal. "The first that were more than temporary guests."

"I see. How long have you been in charge of Discipline, if you don't mind me asking?"

The dedicate paused, glancing up thoughtfully. "I'm not sure," she admitted after a bit. "It's been...over a decade at least. But..." Her frown deepened into a scowl, and she shook her head. "Lark will know."

Something about the way the dedicate's posture changed, hunching in on herself slightly, made Darra change the subject. "How many do you currently have?" she asked, returning with another bucket of water. Half the urns were done now, and she had only spilled a little on the skirt of her dress. She was rather proud of that.

"Three," Rosethorn said quickly, back on firm ground. "We have had someone take the fourth room a few times, for a few moons at most, but no longer than that."

"Have you taken any of the three as your student?" The merchant wife assumed she knew the answer already, but she couldn't think of what else to ask that might be safe.

"No. The two that have magic do not have mine, and Comas is more interested in looms than tomatoes." The way she spoke made it clear she did not understand why in the least. "If I take another student it will be because they have come to me and there is no one else. I am getting too old to chase younglings around, and traveling no longer holds the appeal it once did."

That made a great deal of sense, given what Darra had learned from Briar through her husband. "Then you must be thankful Briar has chosen to remain close by," she said, steering the conversation away from that potentially painful subject.

"I am." The admission was quietly spoken, and with a relief behind it that wasn't hidden as well as the dedicate likely thought it was.

"We hope they will visit, of course," the taller woman said as she straightened from carefully filling another urn, "but I imagine we will come to see them more often than they shall come to see us. Valden has used this trip to expand some of our business, and will wish to meet with his new contacts at least once or twice each year. We are also hoping before too long they will decide to start a family of their own, and traveling with young children is so chancey. It would be much better for us to come to them for a time."

"Lark is hopeful of that as well," Rosethorn said with a soft snort.

"You do not wish for them to have children?" Darra replied, genuinely concerned at the thought.

"I wish for them to make the choice for themselves, in their own time," her companion corrected her gruffly. As an afterthought, she added, "As long as it is before I am too much older, of course."

"Of course," the mother of five replied with a knowing smile.

"Have any of your other children married yet?" It was the first question the dedicate had offered of her own in a while, and it gave the merchant wife some hope that her presence wasn't simply a burden after all.

"One, my older daughter," she answered brightly. "I think it will be a long time, though, for children to arrive. He is mostly at sea right now, and it is difficult to plant a field when you are not there to plow it." Rosethorn's snort of laughter was entirely unladylike, and made her companion grin widely. She would appreciate that analogy more than most. "Ellwyn says they wish to wait for him to reach his Captaincy, but I do not see how that will help as then she shall see him even less."

"Captains do sometimes take their wives on voyages," her companion offered, not meeting Darra's eyes but her grin apparent under the wide brim of her hat.

"That is true," the taller woman agreed, pausing to stretch her back before cranking another full bucket up from the well. "Have you decided what you wish the child to call you when they have one?" she asked, her smile widening when the dedicate actually gave her a confused glance. "Myself, I cannot decide between Yaya and Nana Darra. Yaya was what I called my grandmother, but she was from Olart. Nana is more traditional in Capchen, however, then I would almost have to add 'Darra' to it to be distinguished from the hundreds of other Nanas in the city. It seems a mouthful for a young child. What do you think?"

"She hasn't thought about it at all," Lark called from the door to Rosethorn's workroom, a wide smile on her face. " _I_ want to be called Mimi. It was what I grew up calling my mother's mother." The look she shared with Darra was full of laughter before turning to her love. "Rosie?"

"They aren't pregnant, and when they are will be plenty of time to think about it," Rosethorn replied, walking another basketful of weeds to the edge of the garden.

"Did you know your grandparents?" Darra asked as she fetched another pail of water.

"I did," the dedicate admitted, feeling her partner's eyes on her back as she listened intently. "My father's, at least."

"What did you call your grandmother?"

Rosethorn paused, then admitted grudgingly, "Granny, which would not suit me at all."

"No, I think not," Darra agreed, covering her laugh with her handkerchief as she patted her sweat-streaked face dry.

"Lunch has arrived from the kitchens," Lark said, grinning at her partner's scowl. "Will you be joining us, Mistress Chandler? I would say it's the least we could offer you after your generous help."

"Just Darra, please, and no thank you," the raven-haired woman replied as she put the bucket back where she had found it. "I will have to find where Valden has wandered off to, and I think it best we wait to meet Glaki and Evvy. I want Briar and Tris to introduce us."

"That is probably for the best," Lark agreed, nodding slightly. "Please excuse me, the girls will be back from their lessons soon and ravenous as all growing children are. We look forward to seeing you again soon."

"As do I."

Rosethorn stood, dusting her hands and brushing dirt from her robe. "You asked once if we could be friends," she said as she approached her visitor, a frown on her face. "And I told you I could not be friends with someone I did not respect."

"I recall the conversation," her companion said dryly.

"I hope we can be friends, Darra Chandler," Rosethorn said quietly, meeting her gaze with blunt sincerity. "The situation you walked into is not the one you thought you would find. I am sorry that I had to show you that. In how I showed you that. It was not kind. But you are not the people we thought you were. You do not know how glad we are to find that."

Darra did not hug the dedicate in her green, dirt-stained robe. She had a feeling the gesture would not be welcomed in the least. She did offer her hand. "Friends, then?"

"Friends," Rosethorn agreed, taking the proffered hand and squeezing it gently. "Do you wish me to speak with Tris and Briar about their girls, or do you wish to do that?"

"I will do that," Darra said quickly. "There are a few other things we need to settle first. We will meet again soon, and I look forward to it."

"As do I." And Rosethorn found, much to her surprise, that she meant it.

-090-

Dinner had been delicious, if short. Daja had decided, after conferring with Briar, that neither of them were up to the task of cooking after the amazing feast the night before. Their best efforts would pale in comparison, and therefore was not worth attempting. The meal had been procured from an eating house two streets over, a runner delivering their basket at the time the smith mage had ordered it earlier that day. Wisely, she had chosen something light. They were all tired, and the heat of the day lingering unpleasantly in the sticky damp left by the rain did not encourage their appetites.

The smith mage had accepted her duties to clean up after the meal, and left the married couple to themselves. They had already taken more than their fair share of the work with her magical mishap, even if it hadn't been her fault.

Tris quickly retreated to her balcony, and Briar followed a moment later after checking on a few things in his workshop. He found her seated in her rocking chair, a book in her lap and her eyes closed.

"To hot to read?" he asked as he settled next to her, crossing his legs at the ankle. It was a silly question. A breeze that he suspected did not extend much past the edge of the balcony kept the air just short of cool, and another stirred the air in their bedroom constantly. By this evening, it might even be chill enough to want to be under the covers.

"Too tired," she replied, keeping her eyes closed as her heel rocked her seat gently.

"Too tired to talk?" he asked, turning his chair slightly so he didn't have to turn his head as far.

"No," she replied, opening her eyes with a small smile. "Not for you."

"I have a question." Something about the way Briar said that made her frown in concern.

"Will I like the question?" she asked, propping her head on one fist.

Her husband shrugged, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. "I don't know. That depends. How do you feel about children?"

Tris blinked. The question felt like it had come out of nowhere, but that was rarely the case with Briar. If he was asking, then...quickly, her mind connected the necessary dots and she said, "I left out my cup this morning." She only remembered because she missed the half she had not drunk upon arriving early at the market.

"You did," he confirmed, looking away at her evasion.

"Rosethorn recommended I start drinking it, just in case," she explained, which was still not an answer to his original question.

"You know I'm still taking my droughtwort," he reminded her gently, though he knew she didn't need it.

His wife shrugged, looking uncomfortable as she said, "She said the bond may made it...chanecy."

Briar thought about that, trying to make sense of the conversation and the questions she refused to answer. "Is that why...?" The flush that crept up his face was enough to tip her off about what he meant.

"No,"she said quickly, flushing herself. After a moment, she asked, "Are we...do you want more?"

"Yes." The blunt honesty did nothing to diminish the desire she felt from their bond, and her face flushed all the more. "But not until you do."

"I-" Tris swallowed whatever she had been about to say, then shrugged with a sigh. "I want you," she said quietly, her eyes on her feet. "I just don't know that I'm ready for all of you just yet." She might as well just paint herself red, she thought as her skin heated all the more. Then at least people wouldn't be able to tell when she _was_ blushing.

"I can be patient," he told her with a smile, feeling the knot that had been tangling his gut start to ease. "But you never answered my original question."

"I don't have an answer yet," she admitted weakly, feeling beyond foolish at the way her wits seemed to have scattered. "I will have to think on it now that it's an actual possibility." Children. Her children. _Their_ children. Hesitantly, she added, "Are you sure you want to risk it? We may end up with a cantankerous know-it-all bookworm with curly red hair and an affinity for lightning."

"I can't think of anything that would make me happier," the plant mage said as he stood and offered her his hand. Tris accepted, unsure of what else to say as he gently pulled her to her feet and drew her into his arms. "I'm sorry if it feels like I'm pushing for too much," he said as he held her close. "On both fronts. You don't have to answer now, about children or anything else. I know you love me, the rest will come when it comes."

Tris sighed into his shirt, burying her face in his shoulder as she felt tears prick her eyes. It wasn't fair, him being so sweet shouldn't make her feel such warmth and weepiness at the same time. "Why are you willing to put up with me?" she asked in a bare whisper, her arms wrapped about his chest.

"I would tell you," he replied with a soft chuckle as he kissed her ear, "but you'll just tell me I'm exaggerating or biased or something else ridiculous."

"You do and you are," she snorted, willing the tears away with a sniff.

"See?" he said, laughing now. "It's a battle I can't win, or at least not yet. I'll wait until I have you thoroughly convinced of your beauty first, that should make it easier to convince you you're worth any bit of trouble to keep."

"Not making much headway there," she informed him absently, a little lost in the feel of his body against hers.

"Then I'd better get started."

-090-

Productivity was the goal for the day. It was a goal Tris was failing at, and it was entirely Briar's fault.

Rubbing at her nose beneath her wire-rimmed spectacles, the weather witch sat back with a sigh. That wasn't entirely fair to Briar. He had left her alone like she'd asked that morning, it was her mind that wouldn't stop thinking about the night before.

Her husband had taken a flippant comment very seriously, and she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to think of that night without turning a brilliant shade of red. As it was, she could feel her skin heating again as blood flooded her face. He had begun by describing what he found beautiful about her, in vivid detail. Whispered in her ear, as he'd held her close, even as just a memory she could feel her pulse quickening and her breath coming short once again. At the time, it's potency had been...exponential.

Tris' response had been ardent, to an extent that made her embarrassed despite the fact that he had seemed every bit as avid as she. It had led to the first time he had pinned her to the bed with his full weight, an experience she still couldn't believe had been so thoroughly titillating, and a few other things. Things that made her blush deepen to the point that she was certain she would die of mortification if someone walked in right then. She had closed and locked her workroom door, a certain sign that she was not to be disturbed, but that seemed an inadequate barrier to hide behind. Between her skin prickling with the ghost of Briar against her, and her own irritation at her inability to control her emotions, she almost wanted to scream in frustration.

The weather witch felt her husband's attention turn towards her in the back of her mind and grimaced. He would be smiling smugly now, he thoroughly enjoyed the mess he made of her mind. Of course, she was fairly certain she had made an equally untidy tangle inside him as well if last night were any indication. What was not fair was how he seemed to be able to continue to function. Not as though everything were normal, but as though he didn't care who knew what his smiles and flushed skin meant. He was _proud_ of the mark she'd left on his shoulder, and only threats of sleeping alone had garnered a promise to leave his shirt on no matter how hot it got that day. She was fairly certain he had known the threats had been hollow, empty things, but he had given way to her with a smile and promised.

Tris looked at the twisted piece of fine copper in her hands and grimaced. Well, this one was useless. She'd managed to completely mess up both of the loops, and they were unevenly placed along the line. Tsking to herself in irritation, she clipped it off and tossed it with the rest of the discards. There was a distressingly large pile of those today, even if Briar had convinced her to combine their finances the cost of getting more wire with almost nothing to show for it grated on her nerves. Perhaps Daja at least would be able to do something with them.

Focus, she told herself sternly as she started anew. Stay on task with no mistakes. A thought came to her as she began the first loop: what if she made it a game? Let's say...eight in a row, no mistakes, and then she could have a reward. A reward, like say, Briar.

For some reason, the weather witch worked much more efficiently after that.

-090-

Briar grinned to himself as he worked in the garden, pulling weeds out with only half a mind as the pulse of the bond told him his wife was thinking of him once again. And likely of the night before. Tris had surprised him, in the best sort of way, when she'd yanked him down for that first kiss. He'd have to remember that words had a wonderfully powerful effect on her. He hadn't even said anything particularly provocative, which made him wonder what would happen if he _did_...

The bond pulsed again, and his grin grew, then faded. Tris' attention had suddenly focused with hawk-like intensity, and it wasn't on him. Of course, she did have work to complete, but he had hoped last night would prove diverting enough that she'd be thinking of it all day. He certainly would be. The feel of her beneath him, growling in frustration as she tried to pull his shirt off. Her mouth on his skin.

The plant mage came back to the present to find he'd finished this section and needed to move on to the next. He did so, putting the discarded weeds in a basket for transport to the compost heap. Rob would come soon, to move the weeds for him. Briar took an empty basket with him to the next section, weeding as he continued to mull over the night before.

Women were different then men, he knew that well enough. And he hadn't been bonded to any of the other girls he'd been with. Maybe it was like this for all of them. He had heard the physical relations end wasn't as important to most of them. Of course, his experiences said that wasn't true, but he hadn't been with the usual run of women. And none of them had been anything like Tris beyond the superficial.

In some ways he had trouble even comparing her with the rest in his mind, and that wasn't just because he hadn't slept with her. It was how very different even their interactions were. The point of his pursuit of any woman before this _was_ to sleep with her, or whatever physical gratification she was willing to give him. He never asked for more than was offered, but he had also never turned it down. Not before seeing Master Brunstwort, that was.

The point of his relationship with Tris was...something beyond that. And even as he hoped for more tonight, he also knew that if it wasn't to happen he would be equally pleased just to have her sleep next to him. To have her love him, however she could. He could wait, and not just because he couldn't imagine a world where a woman would kiss him like that and not eventually want the rest as well. Even if Tris couldn't, for whatever reason, he would still love her. Still choose her.

It was still pleasant to daydream, though.

Such musings filled the young man's mind, and kept it occupied as his hands worked steadily among his charges. Pruning came next, and then some harvesting. He ignored the fat, yellow bees who buzzed lazily among the flowers, and they ignored him. A neighbor a few streets over had hives in his walled garden, and Briar welcomed them as free help. He could pollinate the plants himself, but it took time and was delicate work. Much better to let the bees do it for him.

It was eleventh bell when the young man realized his stomach was complaining loudly, and set aside his tools for a short break. The cook would have left something in his workroom, she usually did, and he paused only to wash his hand outside before heading in. A tray on his table caught his immediate attention, complete with a plate of sandwiches and a pitcher of juice with condensation running down its side. His gut rumbled its appreciation, and he set to with a will. So absorbed was his mind on the food, that the kiss placed at a certain spot at the back of his neck nearly sent him tumbling from his stool.

Briar turned, face red, to find a very amused wife standing behind him. "That's not fair," he said, quickly swallowing his food. " _I'm_ the one who sneaks up on people."

"I know," she said, eyes twinkling with laughter as she stepped closer. "I might have to try that again sometime, see if I can get you to topple over completely."

His retort was cut short by her lips on his, and the plant mage decided getting spooked by his wife might be worth it if this was what happened afterwards.

A knock on his workroom door broke them apart some time later, and Tris quickly backed away. Briar watched, still in a pleasant daze, as she smiled at him and slipped out the door to the garden as silent as a breeze.

"Come in," he called a moment later, when the knock came again.

Daja carefully stuck her head in, looking apprehensive until she realized he was alone. "I was afraid I might be interrupting something," she explained at his perplexed frown. "You and Tris were both shielded, and you didn't answer immediately. Tris doesn't like being interrupted when it's just a book, I don't want to know what she'd be like interrupting anything _else_."

Briar felt a flash of amusement and a bit of smugness in the back of his mind as he realized his wife was still listening through their bond. And that Daja couldn't sense her there. When had she learned how to do that?

"Something I can help you with?" he asked, clearing his throat when his voice came out a touch higher than usual. He was thankful for the leather work apron he still wore to hold his tools outside. It hid what his pants would not have. Oh, he was going to have to think of a suitable retribution for his wife. Leaving him in this state, and on purpose, was definitely going to require some form of retaliation.

"It's about the difference between an aster and a daisy," the smith mage said as she showed him her sketches. "The person who wants this made is very specific about it, and they say my sketches don't look right. What am I doing wrong? I want this set before I go to start making them."

Briar focused on the drawings as he felt his wife recede from his mind, back to her own workroom. He would deal with her later.

-090-

Tris' smile was still firmly in place as she finished another of her looping copper creations, meant to sit in the middle of her rain shield charms. It had been less than half a bell, from the time she had left to her sudden return. But the interlude had been invigorating, and she found herself able to focus with steady hands as she had not before.

Twelve, she decided as she set the first completely piece aside. Twelve more finished, and she could go see him again. Assuming he did not return the favor before then. She could set wards, so she would know if he did. Her husband would be eager to get back at her for making him jump. Blushing suited him, she decided, and he did not do it nearly enough to suit her.

Somehow that felt like cheating, and if he managed to pay her back she doubted he would fail to make up for it. Which would be better than dealing with him pouting from a failed attack. Her smile widened, but the anticipation, knowing there was more to come, for some reason made her all the more able to complete her work. If it was done and out of the way, she would be better able to enjoy herself without worry of what still needed to be completed.

Deftly manipulating the copper wire, Tris wondered if she would ever stop smiling again.

-090-

Briar was planning his revenge. He would have to wait awhile, of course, she would be expecting a retaliation of some kind. A quick word with the cook told him part of what he needed. No, Mistress Tris had not gone down for lunch. If she did not come by tea time, they would send up her tray to the library for her to eat. She did not like to be disturbed before then for meals if she forgot to come down herself.

The mage decided he had done enough work outside for the day, cleaning up his tools and shaking the dirt and debris from his clothes. He left his workroom door cracked as he worked, listening to the cook and her nieces as they chatted just a few rooms away in the kitchen. Eventually the tray for Tris was mentioned, and Briar got up from his work. To the outside stairs he went, slipping upstairs on soundless feet. His wife, if he was interpreting the bond and her habits right, would be hungry by now. The knock on the door would distract her enough, hopefully, that all she would be thinking about would be her own tray. All he had to do was slip into the library before she got there and then-

The maid spotted him at the top of the stairs as he came out of their bedroom, the tray in her hands. "Master Briar," she said immediately, "would you take this to Mistress Tris, please? Aunt has us hopping trying to make up for our week off, and-"

The young woman had a particularly carrying voice, and even if Tris had not yet heard he did not count on his luck holding out that long.

"I'll take it," he said, cutting in with a smile. "Go on, don't want to keep your Aunt waiting." Well, perhaps next time then. And maybe this would work out to his advantage, somehow.

"Briar?" Tris said in surprise when he opened the workroom door, tray in hand. "I thought I heard one of the maids out there."

"She was busy, and asked for my help," he explained simply, setting the tray on a clear table and swooping in for a kiss. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to come see you for a minute."

"Why were you upstairs?" she replied, lips curling into a teasing smile. "She didn't give you the tray downstairs, or I wouldn't have heard her voice."

"Nothing important," he replied as he handed her a plate of sandwiches and began to inspect her work. "They look good," he said as he carefully picked one up. "Do you think they'll work?"

"I hope," she replied with a shrug. "I won't know until I try, though."

"When will you pour the first molds?"

"Probably in a day or two. I want to have a good thirty or forty set to make the attempt with, incase some are ruined." Tris ate neatly between her words, tiny quick bites that betrayed the manners she had been drilled in as a child. Bird-like, Briar thought as he poured them both a cup of tea from the pot. She had three cookies beside her plate, which was more than she would need and he dutifully took one so there would be no waste. "I would be thrilled if even only half of them work as planned. It would be such a huge accomplishment, to have them work at full strength without deteriorating, that it would be worth the waste in materials."

"And once you know it works, you can refine it to work at a higher rate," he added with a grin. "And you were worried you wouldn't ever sell one again. They'll be lined up around the block to buy it if it works half as well as you think."

"It was a theory, not an expectation," she retorted lightly.

"Well, I have a theory," he said as he stepped close and caught her hand, pressing his lips gently to her pale skin of her inner wrist.

"What is that?" she asked, setting aside her cup before she spilled it on herself from the shudder of pleasure than ran through her.

"That if you sat on your desk it would be the perfect height to kiss you at."

As it turns out, his theory was right.

-090-

That night Tris lay next to her husband, listening to the sound of his breathing as he pressed against her back and held her securely about the waist as usual. It was odd, she couldn't remember what it felt like anymore to sleep without his comforting presence beside her. It would be lonely, she thought, to go back to that time. She would manage, but she would not like it.

Briar hadn't brought up children or the tea that evening, and he hadn't pressed her for more when she'd withdrawn after kissing him in their bed. She almost wished he had, perhaps then she wouldn't feel so guilty about the first two.

Children. The thought warmed and terrified her at the same time. Could she have children? Would she be a good mother? Would she be dooming her children to a life of lightning-laced difficulties? Whether or not she passed on the ability, she herself would always have lightning. Could that be a danger to her children? Would she have to give up working her craft while she was pregnant, to protect the babe? She had managed Glaki, but the child had been old enough to speak and manage most of her own personal affairs when she had met Tris. That was not like having an infant around at all.

And yet...

A little boy or girl, looking up at her with Briar's eyes. His mischievous smile on their lips. Little voices saying 'Mama' and 'Papa'. It was a tempting dream, she just wasn't sure it was a dream for her.

Other children tugged at her heart, they always had. Those who had no homes, no safe place to be loved and cared for. She had considered adopting another when Glaki came to live with her, if she found another child with magic and nowhere to go. Or helping families with no resources sponsor their young mages through school. A child with the gift of magic could provide for their family's needs in time, if they could receive the proper education. Only if she had the coin for it, of course. Alone it would have been difficult to fund such things, but perhaps Briar would see the need if she discussed it with him. He didn't say anything, but she knew he spent a day or two each moon in the Mire, tending to the street children who were too scared to go to Hulda's House for healing. They trusted him, and his only price was a promise to come get him if they needed serious help. Surely, he would agree to do something more.

Thoughts wrestling around in her mind, Tris turned to find Briar watching her with an amused, sleepy grin.

 _Did I wake you?_ She asked, feeling all the more guilty now.

 _No,_ he said, kissing her on the ear. _I wasn't sleeping. Just enjoying being beside you._

 _The snores you were making beg to differ._

Nimble fingers pinched her side, and she gave him a warning look. Further incursions _would_ be met with retaliation, that look said. Briar grinned and pinched her again.

Tris won the battle, but Briar did not consider himself a loser some time later when she pinned him to the bed and attacked his sides mercilessly. She sat on top of him, and in just her shift. But even her fingers making him beg for an end couldn't entirely distract him from the way their thrashing about pulled the thin fabric tight against her body. He was glad she was more on his stomach than his hips, there would be no hiding his reaction at this point.

"I give!" he cried, laughing with tears in his eyes as she gave him a triumphant smirk. "You win, you win...Lakik's teeth, you're not one to give up are you?"

"Not if you deserve it," she replied, sitting up until she realized how he was trapped beneath her. "Ah-" Shifting to the side, she flushed hotly as she said quickly. "Sorry, I didn't-"

"Please don't go," he said, gently taking her arms and pulling her down towards him. "I like it when you're on top."

"It's a favorite?" she finished for him, voice barely above a whisper as she gingerly settled against his chest. She could feel him beneath her, and it was different than the night before. Legs tangled together, she had in bringing herself closer moved a little to the side. That did not mean she wasn't aware of his arousal, of his desire. A blush was not adequate to describe the brilliant scarlet her face had turned, and he smiled at her as their mouths touched.

Despite the racing of her heart, the way her flesh pressed against his made her ache within. Despite the _want_ that welled up inside, it was too much.

The fact that Briar didn't need her to say so was even worse. He let go, and didn't protest when Tris moved to the far side of the bed and put her back to him. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she tried not to cry. A moment later Briar was beside her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and propping his chin on her shoulders.

"It's ok," he said, filling their bond with reassurance and love. "Did I do something wrong? I didn't...I didn't mean to push you, to rush you, I just..." His sigh deep, and full of something so tangled she couldn't make it out through their bond. "I'm sorry."

"Why are you apologizing?" she asked, unable to stop the flood of tears that streamed down her face. "I should be doing that. I'm the one that's not able to-...I'm the _freak_." Something had to be broken inside her, it was the only explanation that made even an ounce of sense.

"You are not a freak," he replied, holding her tighter still. "You're my wife and I love you. I love you now, and I'm going to love you every day from now until forever even if this is it. I don't care. I picked you and I'm not going to stop picking you until one of us is no longer breathing."

"You should have picked someone else."

"Why would I do that when everything I want is right here?" She didn't have a response for that. Deftly, with all the care of one handling the most delicate and precious of things, he tugged her to the rooftop of Discipline Cottage in their minds. It was night there too, stars scattered across the purple-black sky. Lying on the still sun-warmed straw, he melded their minds together until it was impossible to say where one stopped and the other began. It did not have the same thrill that kissing him did, it did not bring forth the sweet ache of need, but it was far more intimate and personal in it's own way.

There were no lies when they were so closely linked, no deceptions and no evasions. Nowhere to hide. Tris could see the truth of Briar's love, and his desire for her body, but that he also meant what he said. He would give it all up, if it meant being with her. Briar could see her fear, of losing control but also her fear of losing part of herself. Of knowing that this final part would give him a hold on her that no one else had had before. And that once it was given, she could never have it back.

Tris could also feel Briar's certainty that she would give it to him eventually. He said that he didn't care, but he also believed that it was inevitable. The bond went both ways, he knew of her want and desire as much as she knew of his. Given her behavior, she couldn't deny that his logic had merit. Which made her feel all the more ridiculous and guilty, because if she wanted him and he wanted her and they were married then why not? Her guilt, in turn, brought out his. Guilt at bringing forth her fear, at pushing her too far. Which in turn made her own worse, which in turn-

 _Stop_ , Briar said, withdrawing from her slightly.

 _Yazmin was right_ , Tris said, now seated a few feet away on the peak of the roof. _Our bond is a double-edged sword._ She wrapped her arms about herself and tucked her legs underneath her, wearing a comfortable and familiar dress. Briar watched her from his place by the chimney, in old pants and a worn shirt.

 _We can still work through this,_ Briar replied, stubbornly steadfast. _I'm sorry if bringing you here wasn't the right thing to do. I didn't know what else-_

 _Don't apologize,_ his wife cut in, giving him a wan smile. _No more apologies. No more guilt. Neither of us is perfect. But...I need time. I can't sort this out when you're in my head with me. I focus too much on you and not on the problem._

 _I want to help._

 _If you give me some time you will be helping,_ she replied gently, seeing the pain in his eyes and knowing it was mirrored in her own.

 _Do I need to sleep somewhere else?_ Briar looked almost heartbroken as he asked.

 _Of course not!_ Tris felt herself flushing, even here in the mind space. _I've gotten used to you being there, and I don't know what I would do if you weren't._

He didn't need to reply for her to know he was pleased. _We both need to sleep_ , he said, holding out one hand. Tris accepted, and they were both back on their bed. Briar slipped out of their bed, mentioning a need to use the privy, and Tris settled herself back on her side of the large mattress. Before long her husband was back, slipping an arm around her waist as he laid behind her.

 _Thank you_ , she said as he contented himself with brushing a kiss on her cheek.

 _Anything for you._ She believed him too.

-090-

Author's Notes:

PLEASE STOP AND READ THIS!

So, stuff has happened. Life stuff. Not necessarily bad life stuff, but definitely time-consuming life stuff, and as a result I won't be posting any updates until at least September 15th. That's three weeks from now. I know this isn't the best place to insert a temporary hiatus, but a few things are going to have to give, and the way I'm setting it up across the board is giving myself a bit more space than I probably actually need. The bonus: if I really do have extra time, the first update on the 15th will be a double update. Two chapters at once! I know that still puts you one chapter behind over all, but I can't do everything. This isn't the only personal project that's going on hold for a bit, and is actually prioritized until it's completion as it's much closer to the end then most of what I'm also working on.

Thanks to those of you who reviewed! I love hearing from you, and please remember to review this chapter as well. Even with the hiatus, it gives me motivation to keep going each time one hits my inbox.

Until next time, guys!

~CB


	23. Chapter 22

STOP AND READ THIS: In this chapter, we finally earn that M rating for sure. Don't like? Don't read. It's pretty simple.

-090-

Chapter 22

The next day was only slightly awkward. Briar rose first, kissing his wife briefly before scooting himself out of bed and getting ready for the day. Tris allowed herself to drowse a few more minutes. It was the day before the ball, and though she had a great deal to do most of it was just checking to be certain all was in preparation for the big event.

Downstairs she was greeted by the housekeeper, who went through what outfits the trio had chosen for the event and what needed cleaning or mending beforehand. The maids were given their tasks and sent scurrying off to complete them. Tris had an hour in which to complete a few more of her copper loops and rings, and then she went down to the kitchen to discuss the meals for the next few days with the cook. Today was simple, all three would eat mostly in a come and go fashion until dinner, and the day of the ball would be the same minus dinner. A meal would be waiting upon their return as well, no one ate much at a ball and everyone would be hungry afterwards. It could be late, so only Rod would be there, but he knew how to safely clear the dishes and put up whatever was not eaten until the cook returned the next day. Summersea was a safe city, but no one wanted to take a foolish risk by sending one of the maids home alone in the dark of night.

The day after the ball would be a day of rest. No one had business of any kind planned for the day, and any requests for visitors would be denied unless one of the three was already up and out of their rooms when the request was made. Of course, all three were usually out of bed and getting at least a little something accomplished by noon. It was rare, the event that would keep all or even most of them out so late that they would get nothing done the next day. The cook would have several options available for snacking or light meals through the day, and plan for a simple evening meal a little later than usual.

Tris approved the menus suggested, helped making the shopping list, and then allowed Rod to go in her place to make most of the purchases. The man had proven to be a keen bargainer, and knew what good produce looked like. The weather witch missed going to do such tasks herself, but Daja had another set of the metal charms ready for her to finish for Dame Dominique and the copper loops were not going to make themselves. Her magical work was increasing, and the servants were fully capable of taking care of her slack.

Briar, true to his word, was leaving her alone. He hadn't cut her off completely, that would have been beyond hurtful. But he had withdrawn nearly to the distance they had used when only siblings. She knew where he was, and could get a general sense of whether or not he was alright without pushing closer. Beyond that, his thoughts and emotions were so distant she may as well not feel them at all. He was outside, in his garden working, and he seemed to be content. She hoped that that were so.

All through this the weather witch had wrestled with her problem. A tangled knot beyond even the mess her mother had made of the ties on her wedding dress. In truth, Tris would have rather sat those three hours over again, listening to Briar curse as he tried to loosen the settled knots marching down her back. It was easier than dealing with the mess inside her heart and mind.

Tris loved Briar. That was a fact. Tris...desired Briar. That was also a fact. But there was also the fear, the ice-in-her-veins-dread that...what? It was such a nebulous thing, and yet it's hold on her seemed inescapable. She could not name specifically what that fear was. She knew Briar, knew him so well she could probably guess his next thoughts as well or better than he could. He would not use her, hurt her or leave her. He loved her, _desired_ her -hard as that may be for her to believe- and wanted to remain married to her, whatever that required.

But the fear would not go. Whenever she allowed herself to consider the tangled knot it was there, waiting maliciously in the dark corners of her mind. Freezing her thoughts

and spine alike with dread when she thought she had managed to work something free.

There had to be an answer. Magic wasn't an immediate fix to the world's problems, but it did make many things easier. And some things more difficult. Was that her problem? Was her fear not of Briar, but of her magic? She supposed it was possible, her emotions had at one time caused things like lightning to strike out a clear sky and winds to blow at random. Was it possible her fear was an instinct that she would lose control in that moment of passion? An inner alarm she had been ignoring?

Meditation, she decided, would be a good place to start. She could inspect her power, in herself and in her braids. See if there were any leaks or weak points she had not been aware of before. Lunch was eaten quickly, and she informed the housekeeper she would be upstairs for the next hour. She was only to be disturbed if it was of the utmost importance.

The housekeeper, armed with that information, assured her that all would be well. Tris went, and mediated.

-090-

Briar worked in his garden, weeding and clearing dead leaves off off his plants. His compost heaps in the back corner were coming along nicely, and he should be able to sift out some of his biggest soon for the bulbs he was about to plant. Generally he wasn't a fan of flowers just to have something pretty, but according to the fellow he'd bought them from they had a spicy/sweet scent when mature and he was looking to expand his line of perfumes some.

He was leaving Tris alone, as promised, and felt the loss of her in the back of his mind. She was still there, but it no longer felt like he could just reach and out touch her whenever he wanted. There was a distance there, nearly as great as when they had only been brother and sister, and it bothered him have that gulf in his mind.

The plant mage still worked even as he mentally probed at the hurt like he might a sore tooth in his mouth. He simply could not leave it alone. Tris said it wasn't him. That there was nothing he could do. Somehow, that was worse than if it had been his fault. It made him feel helpless, watching her struggle with something he could not see. Briar loathed it.

Lunch came and went, and Briar accepted the tray Rob brought to him in the garden. He glanced towards his bedroom when he felt Tris shield herself from him completely. It only took a moment for him to figure out why: she was meditating.

Tris meditated often, more often than any of the other members of their circle. Of course, all three would admit that they probably didn't meditate enough. When times got busy, especially during the summer, Briar had a tendency to forget. When tax time came, Sandry would skip nearly a full moon in the rush of papers and plans. When projects absorbed her attention, Daja could find days and weeks had slipped by without seeking inner calm even once. It was not a good habit to have, for any of them.

Perhaps, he reasoned as he ate the ham sandwich and washed it down with some juice, he should have expected this then. Meditation helped Tris, helped her focus and solve problems within herself. If there was an answer to be found internally, meditation would making finding it that much easier.

The young man had not given into despair, but for the first time that day hope began to grow in his chest once more. Hope that an answer could be found without suffering, hope that things could be mended between himself and his wife. He just had to be patient, and let her sort things out in her own time. He just had to hope.

-090-

Work had kept everyone busy, even after dinner. Tris had gone with Daja, to check on the charms on the smith mage had made and to lay her own magical touch upon them. Briar retreated to his own workroom, bottling the distillations that were finally ready and sealing each with fresh wax. Labeling each carefully took time, as did preparing the next batch to be strained overnight.

Both husband and wife were exhausted by the time they made their way up the three flights of stairs, immediately changing into more comfortable clothes and preparing to sleep. Words were few, and the awkward strain was still there was they settled together in their bed.

"Thank you," Tris said after a time, lacing her fingers with his on her hip. "For letting me have a little space today."

"It helped?" he asked, his grin hopeful.

"Some," she admitted, voice muffled by her pillow.

"Good," he said, kissing her on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," she said, drawing him in to put her lips on his. She could feel his mouth smiling against hers, and hid her guilt when she drew away after a few moments. He let her, radiating confidence and contentment as they cuddled together once again.

Helped? Yes, it had helped, but she hadn't really made any progress. And she had missed slipping down to his workshop for short visits through the day. It would have been unfair to do so, especially when she was asking for space, but he drew her like a moth to the flame. An apt analogy, as the heat of his kisses often left her feeling a little singed.

Briar trusted her. A trust she wasn't sure she deserved as she lay next to him in the dark and listened as his breathing deepened into that of sleep. Dancing, she decided as her own eyes grew heavy. She would make it up to him at the ball, with dancing, and they would figure out the rest.

She hoped.

-090-

Tris rose early on what she assumed would be a very full day. Briar had received a request for a visit by one of his clients the night before, and he had reluctantly agreed. It put him even more out of reach than before, but there would be dancing tonight. She could at least hold on to that.

Her husband was already in the bathroom, washing his face and using the mirror to scrape his chin clean with a sharp razor. The weather witch liked that about Briar, he prefered no facial hair and she agreed. She began her own morning routine, pulling on a comfortable dress that would do for checking on her charms in the annealer before readying herself for this evening. They traded placing at the washing basin, Tris getting a quick kiss before Briar trotted down the steps as out the front door. With luck, he would be back well before lunch.

Tris was in the forge before even Daja, placing crucibles in her kiln to melt down the glass needed for her new and hopefully improved rain charms. The molds were waiting, cleaned and prepped to one side, and the pile of carefully cleaned and polished copper coils in their flower-like patterns beside it. It would normally be half a day easy for the glass to reach the correct temperature, but the weather witch was impatient for once and willing to expend the extra effort. The heat did not come from solely coal fire, but instead was supplemented from the correct braid in her snood. Mixing the two methods meant she did not have to pull as much heat as she might have, and therefore was not as taxed from using her magic. She had perhaps an hour or two, and she should be ready to pour.

The housekeeper and cook were her next stops, checking in with both to be certain all was in order before checking in with Daja. The smith mage was now in the forge herself, and cast her sister a quick smile as she pumped the bellows and prepared bars of copper to be heated.

 _Can you force in some wind?_ The smith asked as she thrust a bar into the white coals.

 _Of course._ Tris quickly complied, pulling in a stiff breeze, coiling it into a fine rope and running it into the furnace. The fire there grew perceptibly, and Daja grinned.

 _Thanks_.

 _Any time._ Keeping the wind moving took barely an ounce of effort, and no thought at all. The sound, though, made speech difficult and the pair worked in silence as each saw to their craft. The crucible was ready in record time, and Tris quickly pulled it out with her tongs before moving to her mold and carefully pouring a small amount into each identical depression. Setting the crucible back in the heat, she quickly took up the copper spirals and began to press them into each mold. Once placed, she picked up the crucible again and poured enough to fill each depressed spot nearly to the top. Two trays worth were completed before she knew it, and then deposited into the annealer to cool. Two more trays were put on the table, and filled in quick succession.

Four dozen, she thought with tired satisfaction. She would not be able to complete them or lay the charm down until tomorrow afternoon or evening, but something told her she was closer to her goal than ever before. Perhaps she had even finally arrived. If they were ready, she could sign a contract with her father to sell them in Capchen. Exclusive rights would be exchanged for a hefty sum, one that would in turn fuel other projects. Perhaps Briar had been right after her future wealth after all.

Daja, she discovered when she finally turned around, was working the copper into a crown. The flowers lay finished to one side, ready to be mounted when this piece was ready.

 _You can stop with the wind_ , her sister said, realizing the weather witch had finished her work. _I shouldn't need it again today._

Tris did just that, letting the breeze go free before leaving with a wave. In the kitchen she put together a quick light meal, then went upstairs to be certain she had everything in order for inscribing her charms the next day. Tools were laid out, and each inspected to be certain it would do what was needed. Leather thongs for the charms to hang on where prepared and cut to the desired length, and laid out neatly on a row. Preparations complete, the redhead took her disk and mug back down to the kitchen and checked her list for what came next.

It was the work of bending the tails of Chime's last flames and spirals into loops so they could be hung on various things. The weather witch was surprised to find she had not thought of the glass dragon in days, and realized as she thought back over the last two moons that as she had grown closer to Briar the persnickety creature had been drawing further away. It seemed sending her with Thomas, who would have no one else vying for his affection for some time, had been the best choice after all.

Tris decided she missed her small companion, but did not long for her to return as she once might have. They had outgrown each other, perhaps. Chime needed someone who needed to be needed, and Tris was no longer than person. As the glass dragon had shown no signs of age in their many years together, it was hard to say how long she would live, or how 'old' she was in terms of her kind. Perhaps she would go through many 'owners', companions who would devote themselves to her for a time before she moved on to someone else.

That thought did not distress her nearly as much as it once would have, nor did the loss of her income from Chime's charms. Agreeing to share Briar's wealth irked even as it gave her a sense of security, but she was also more confident of her ability to contribute than she had been a few moons before. The charms for Dame Dominique would work, she was beyond certain of that, and would be a fat commission once the orders came in. And she was nearly as certain she had unlocked the final piece of her rain shield charm problem. Tris doubted she would ever be as well-off as her siblings, they were years ahead of her in the wealth-gathering business, but her wallet would stretch further than it ever had before. It was a comforting thought.

Checking her bond, Tris found Daja in her rooms and Briar still gone. He might be cutting things close to get ready, she realized as she headed to their room. It would be best if she went ahead and prepared herself for the party, and was out of the way when he returned. The fact that she still didn't have an answer for her problem and being cleaned up and dressed before he arrived home would keep him safely at arm's length without hurting his feelings was merely an inconsequential side-effect.

When Briar arrived in their room two hours later, frazzled and out of breath, he found his wife seated at the table in their room. Dressed in her best light gown and hair tucked neatly in her snood, she was ready to go at a moment's noticed except for one thing. Her boots.

"Stay there," he told her as he rushed by, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he went. He wouldn't have time for a full bath, his client had seen to that with his overly inflated crisis. But at least a partial cleaning would be needed to remove the dirt and sweat. Stripping to the waist, the plant mage left the door opened as he poured warmed water into the basic and prepared to wash.

Tris didn't notice until she glanced up, and then found it hard to look away as her husband scrubbed a wet rag over himself. A pity, she thought, he kept his pants on. And then immediately felt guilty for the thought. He wouldn't mind, probably, but it reminded her of the tangle inside. The one she had not yet dealt with, and had no idea of how to.

Hastily she looked away as he strode out, toweling off briskly and then leaving it about his shoulders as he snagged her boots from their shelf.

"You don't have to," she told him when she realized what he was about. "I know you're in a hurry."

"Not so much that I will miss this," he told her with an eager grin. "It's a favorite I've been looking forward to for awhile now."

Tris had no reply for that. His fingers were as quick and clever as she had imagined, even if the teasing that had accompanied most of her daydreams was cut short by time. Still, something about the way he knelt before her and guided her foot into place made her breath short and her heart race. Each lace was checked, and then checked again, and when he had to stand the weather witch had to admit that if nothing else he was right about one thing. They were definitely made for someone else to tie up for you. She could not have gotten the pressure so even up the front of her leg, and they were even more comfortable as a result than she had remembered.

Briar's gaze lingered on her lower half, and Tris tried not to flush as she caught a faint hint of his thoughts. This close together, in the same room, their bond became stronger and more open unless they were purposely shielding themselves off entirely. Still, other than a faint flush, she merely thanked him for his help and turned to go.

"You're leaving?" he asked, surprised and disappointed.

"I don't want to distract you," she replied, taking another step towards the door. "We're cutting our time close as it is."

"Being late is fashionable," he argued teasingly. "Or that's what they tell me. And you aren't a distraction."

"You told me I was the other night," she reminded him, taking another step towards the door.

"Then I should say you are my favorite distraction, and would much rather have you around then absent." His hand caught hers as he followed, drawing it to his lips as he held her eyes with his own.

Tris stepped into her husband's arms, kissing him briefly before stepping away again."I'll wait downstairs," she said with a small smile, disappearing around the door before he could reply.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, and her stomach burned with guilt as she paused at the top of the stairs. Even now she wanted to turn around and discover if 'fashionably late' was in favor right now. But she wouldn't be able to give him what they both, if she was being honest, wanted. The fear was still there, and even as she loathed it the icy tendrils threatened to swarm up her spine.

Meditation, she decided as she trotted down the stairs, adjusting the glasses Briar's enthusiastic response had knocked askew. At best she might have an answer, at worst it would keep her from making things worse.

-090-

Tris sat with her sisters and husband in the carriage, Sandry having arrived to pick the other three from their home. Daja carried on across from her about her latest project, and Briar's help in making sure the asters set in the crown would not be too daisy-like, but the weather witch was distracted. It was not only Briar's arm twined with her own, their fingers laced together, though he did slide his thumb towards her wrist and back again in an almost hypnotic rhythm. It was how guilty she felt accepting that pleasure.

She _still_ didn't have an answer. Tris had taken the half a bell he had spent preparing himself for the party to meditate, desperately seeking anything that might help and finding nothing in herself. Daja had not asked why, but her sister did not miss the glances of confusion that had been sent her direction more than once.

It was entirely unfair, and so very like herself, that she should make something that should be simple so very _complicated_. Something about the way Briar shifted made her glance up at him, and she followed his gaze back down to her boots. Her husband was respecting her wishes, and his connection with her was still more distant than they had been accustomed to being. But she could still sense of his pleasure at seeing those boots, and pulled herself away before she was drawn into whatever daydream he was likely entertaining. It would only add salt to the wound of not being able to give him more.

The weather witch attempted to clear her mind once again, trying to focus as Sandry asked questions about the composition of the metalwork for the flowers and the crown Daja were creating. She was momentarily distracted when the smith mage added in the rising cost of silver, due to shipping troubles. Merchant business always interested her, and she speculated with the stitch-witch on how soon the washed-out road could be mended, if there was an alternate route around it, and how it could affect costs before everything settled once more. Silver was relatively plentiful in Emelan, but the damaged route was the easiest way to transport it from the mines to the smelters efficiently. Something would need to be done.

Briar, pressing against her briefly as he adjusted the window shade on Tris' side so the sun was not directly in his eyes, undid whatever distraction had been achieved. He glanced down at her, grinning, and she scowled back. That made him grin all the more. Daja hid her chuckle, and Sandry her smile behind one gloved hand. Which of course made Tris scowl even more. Briar, simply enjoying the blush that now stained her face, shrugged.

It was _not_ fair.

The hall the Chandlers had procured for the event was moderately grand. It was not the largest or the finest, but was attached to a well-manicured garden that could only be reached from the ballroom. There was a nice breeze coming off the sea, and carried with it the tang of salt. Briar glanced at Tris, who's turn it was to shrug.

"They're having the doors and windows left open, to help with the heat," she said blandly. "A breeze will help."

 _I thought you didn't meddle,_ her husband asked, speaking through their link for the first time in days as the carriage rolled into the front courtyard.

 _I didn't. The breeze was already there, I just gave it a nudge and some strength,_ she replied as the driver maneuvered for position among the rest.

 _How is that different from meddling?_ The teasing glint in his eyes as she caught his glance was enough to unmask his serious question.

 _Oh, hush._

Briar exited the carriage first when they finally came to a stop, handing out Tris and Sandry before letting Daja see to herself. They were not quite in their finest this evening, instead choosing their garments for that which would keep them the coolest. The thinly woven linens were not as fine as silk, but they did breathe much better in the cloying heat. The sun sat heavy on the horizon, and with its departure would go the worst of the warmth. Still, from the heaviness in the air Tris could tell it would linger and was glad they had all dressed accordingly.

A footman greeted them at the top of the stairs, inquired after their invitations, then handed them off to another to be led inside. There would be no one announcing arrivals at this gathering, that was for the nobles and the mages who likes hearing their names and titles shouted for all to hear. In some ways, their quiet descent into the large, high-ceiling chamber was more pleasant. Some looked their way, but they were no more special than any other guest in the many who milled about.

" _There_ you are!" Darra called as she materialized out of the throng. The Chandler matriarch was striking in a dark red gown that highlighted her pale skin and raven-wing hair. Her smile as she reached for her daughter was genuine, though, and the attention that had passed over them before was suddenly spotlighted back on the four. "Valden, they're here!"

The stout, red-headed merchant appeared just as suddenly, dressed in a light-grey suit that complimented his wife's apparel perfectly. "Tris," he said expansively as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. "And Briar, of course, welcome!" He shook his son-in-law's hand with unusual vigor. "Lady Sandrilene, Daja." His bows to their sisters was formal, but warm. Sandry curtsied back, and Daja bowed at the waist with a smile. "It is wonderful you could all make it."

"We are all pleased we could come," Sandry replied, the leader in the conversation by rank. "Though I must say I am surprised to find you in such good humor! Given how very like you Tris is, I would have thought such an event more a trial than a reason for celebration." The gentle teasing in her voice was softened more by her wide smile.

"Well," the merchant said, leaning in closer and dropping his voice as his wife was distracted by another guest, "Between you and me there are a great many things I would rather being doing, and a great many things I do not enjoy about this. But my wife loves to host parties, and I have learned that approaching it with at least a facade of good humor helps pass the time faster than complaining and hiding in corners does." Briar was hiding a grin as the man dropped his smile and said rolling his eyes, "After all: Happy wife, happy life."

"Valden, why do I get the feeling you are saying something you don't want me to hear?" Darra asked as she appeared beside him.

"I have no idea," Valden said, entirely straight-faced and smiling once more. "Tris, there are some people I would like to introduce you to. Our business contacts here in Summersea mostly, and a few we are considering going into business with. If you would care to join me over here...?"

Briar followed, watching with interest and his generally reserved wife was thrust into the foreground by her enthusiastic father. Sandry and Daja split off, circling to the other side of the room in search of others they knew. A certain dancer was waiting for the smith mage, and they whirled off together to the sound of a waltz. Sandry was glad to visit with a few of Yazmin's other students, known to her from her time as Pascal's teacher, and then made a round of the room speaking to the few other nobles there. Mostly they are minor houses and holdings, ones that had strong ties to merchant businesses. Not enough clout to do without such common support, and too minor to pass up the opportunity to possibly ties strings to those with their star rising. They were, of course, also glad of the opportunity to have the Duke's niece's ear for a moment. She listened politely, smiled and took note of a few things that had probably not been meant for her to hear.

The plant mage was unusually quiet as Valden led them about, introducing them to several couples around the room. Each was given only a short time to speak with Tris before Valden was off again, but not before that person's particular area of investment was brought up. Briar could not help but smile with pride at the breadth of knowledge his wife displayed of Emelan's resources and markets to the elite merchant stock. Some of her information, of course, could come from being a denizen of the Capital city for so long, but not all. Her father, beaming, would usually hint about that time that she was also a mage, as was her husband.

Briar was allowed to steal Tris away for a dance here and there, but each time the song ended she was approached either by someone her father has already introduced her to, or her father or mother snagged them to meet someone new. The Chandlers had made contact with several families across the city, and were eager to show off their daughter and new son-in-law to each. Valden also stole Tris for a dance himself, which Briar did not mind. He did mind the various business contacts trying to take a dance here or there for themselves. Logic said it was likely for the private moment it afforded the merchants with Tris, but some of those men were rather handsome and each smile made him frown a bit more.

The plant mage could not help but admit that he was impressed, though. The talk of money and ventures and prices and markets was a conversation his wife understood inside and out. She shone among her parents' peers with her quick wit and bright mind, and pride made his chest swell even as annoyance at being denied keeping her to himself on the dance floor made his stomach sour.

They had been at the party for over two hours when Briar finally managed to steal his wife away for a walk in the gardens. Part of his mind critiqued the lay of the beds and the presentation of the various flowers and plants. The other focused on the woman beside him, her small hand tucked in the crook of her arm as they wandered the maze. There were others among the tall hedgerows, but none bothered them and they were left in relative peace for once.

 _You're being awful talkative tonight._ He observed, unable to keep his annoyance entirely to himself.

 _They're my parents' clients, Briar._ The glance she gave him was of amusement. _And for once, the conversation hasn't been tedious fripperies. You aren't jealous, are you?_

 _A little,_ he admitted, hand tightening over hers. _I haven't been able to keep you to myself this time._

Her smile widened, and she squeezed his arm in response. _I know. I would have rather been dancing with you. But you know why I couldn't._

 _I know. We could go dancing now._ Reluctance tinged his words, and his wife chuckled to herself.

 _You're afraid I'll get stolen again._

 _Once, they've let us dance two rounds in a row._ _ **Once**_. _In almost two hours._ Briar was not pouting, but the petulence still came through his words.

 _I wouldn't complain too much. It just means we won't be exhausted when we return home tonight._ She hadn't meant to think of the boots, but the image was there before she could stop it and he paused to glance down at her speculatively.

"Really?" he asked, hope rising in his face.

Guilt flooded the young woman as she realized she didn't have an answer.

"Tris," Sandry said as she rounded corner behind them. Tris turned, relief and guilt wrestling like snakes in her belly as her sister added, "Your parents are looking for you. It's time for the cake."

Briar didn't say anything, but the annoyance radiating along the bond was enough to make the stitch-witch pause.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, eyeing her foster brother warily.

"It is," Tris said as she let go of Briar and took Sandry's arm instead. "We had better go before my mother tries to track me down herself." Glancing back at her husband, she shrugged with a small smile and murmured, _Later_. What would be later she did not say, as it seemed she had already made too many promises she couldn't keep.

 _What's wrong?_ Sandry asked before they had taken two steps around the corner. Her pace slowed to a more measured walk, and Tris looked at her in surprise.

 _I thought we were in a hurry,_ the weather witch said as she matched her sister's speed.

 _That isn't as important as this,_ Sandry replied dryly. _It's not even been a week. Now what's wrong?_

 _It's complicated._ Tris paused as she considered her sister with a speculative glance. _Besides, I'm not sure you could help._

 _Why not?_ The nobleman beside her straightened her back with authority, and Tris rolled her eyes to herself.

 _It's about...something personal_.

Sandry hesitated only a moment before asking, _Do you have someone else you could talk to?_

In truth, Tris didn't. Speaking to her mother would reveal their deceit of the last few months. Yazmin would not understand, and probably try to help by sharing more about the Duke the weather witch did not want to know. Daja, she had a feeling, already knew from Briar, and she didn't want her sister to be stuck between them. Rosethorn would probably shrug (even assuming she could bring herself to bring it up with the dedicate) and tell her that wasn't her business. Lark's advice would probably run along the same lines as Yazmin.

The silence that stretched between them was answer enough.

 _Is it that obvious?_ Tris asked, dismayed that her troubles may be on display for everyone else.

Sandry shook her head as she answered quickly. _I don't think so, but I've also known you a long time. So tell me before it eats you up inside._

 _I'm afraid,_ the weather witch admitted in a small voice.

 _Of what?_

 _I don't know!_ Tris flushed as she clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to rub at the bridge of her nose.

Sandry considered that, and Briar's annoyance, and came to a conclusion that rather made her wish she hadn't insisted on this conversation in the first place. Still, one finished what one started, and her sister needed help. So, she inquired with all the delicacy of one handling the thinnest of embroidery threads, _Are we referring to...physical intimacies?_

 _See? I knew you wouldn't be able to help._

Sandry swallowed her initial annoyance at the snap in her sister's voice, recognizing the scowl for the mask that it was meant to be be. Instead, she asked, _Surely you've...explored some?_

 _Yes,_ Tris admitted, cheeks going pink.

 _I know you're...attracted to him. Daja told me about the kitchen._ Pink turned to red on her sister's face, and the scowl turned into a blank mask. Before the curly-haired mage could get lost in her own thoughts, she added, _What is there to be afraid of?_

 _If I knew, we wouldn't be having this conversation!_ Tris sighed, adding, _I'm sorry. I'm not angry with you, just..._

Sandry grew quiet, and took another wrong turn on cake was important, but she had a feeling if she let Tris escape this conversation it would be impossible to restart any time soon.

 _Do you want to...?_ She didn't need to finish the question. Both of them flushed, and kept their eyes strictly turned to the front.

 _Yes_. The word was a breathless whisper in Sandry's mind. _And no. It's...it's like fire in your veins, Sandry. A need that creeps up and is suddenly there, impossible to ignore and just as vital as air. Logic flies out the window, and the feel of your skin and against his and his against yours is nearly_ _ **suffocating**_ _..._

 _Wait_ , Sandry cut in, trying to calm her own raging blush. _Wait, are you...linked when you and he...?_

 _Some. Not entirely, but maybe a little more than this._ If anyone was paying attention to the pair, they were probably more than little curious at this point. Faces were simply not meant to stay that shade of red for very long, and they had both managed to achieve an impressive saturation more than once in the last few minutes. For their part, both were now acutely aware of their arms linked together. Physical contact always brought the bond deeper if one wasn't being mindful, and each was now wondering if it would be best to let go.

 _What if that's part of it?_ Sandry offered as she made the first move, withdrawing her arm.

 _What do you mean?_ Her sister replied, unthinkingly drawing a breeze towards them to help cool heated cheeks.

The noblewoman was glad of the extra wind, turning into it with relief. _If I kiss someone, I only feel my own pleasure. I may know his by his voice or his touch, but it's not in my head. What if the fear is partially your mind being overwhelmed by Briar's desires bleeding into yours? Feeding into them, so to speak?_

 _I had not considered that,_ Tris admitted as she stopped on the path, eyes wide in surprise. It was so logical, and yet...

 _Why would you have?_ Sandry said, giving voice to her thoughts. _None of us considered a romance within the circle a possibility before. Therefore, why would we have considered the repercussions of physical intimacies in conjunction with our bond?_ Retreating into complicated language helped distance the stitch witch from what they were discussing.

 _What if that doesn't help?_

The noblewoman did not bother to hide her exasperation. _You won't know until you try._

Neither of them mentioned what trying might entail. That was simply too personal. Instead, Tris said, _That's entirely sensible. I thought I was the sensible one between us four._

 _They say love robs you of all sensibilities,_ her sister replied teasingly.

 _I believe it,_ the weather witch replied dryly.

 _We'd better hurry,_ Sandry said as she took her sister's arm again and headed for the exit, _or they'll think we're both lost._

"There you are," Darra sighed in relief, appearing at the entrance to the ballroom just as they exited the maze. "Thank you, Lady Sandrilene. Tris, your father wants you next to him when they present the cake and they're about to begin."

Briar watched from the edges of the crowd as the cake was presented, Valden bracketed by his wife and daughter. He clapped with everyone else as the confectioners' concoction was rolled in, and accepted a slice when they began to hand it around. The cake was exceptionally good, heavy and moist, with sugared rose petals on top and decorative swirls in the icing. The plant mage admired the entire party in a way he had never thought possible. Obviously it was his wife rubbing off on him, he thought as he turned in a circle to take it all in.

Second-best musicians in the city. Excellent vintages of wine, and very good food, but none of it overly extravagant or rare. They had hardly decorated, letting the clean marble lines and beautiful plasterwork speak for itself. The cake, from the best baker in town, but not his greatest work in terms of decoration. It is delicious, but simple. Spending coin where it is important, being frugal where it is not. Valden, for all his ignorance of magic, was a clever man.

"Would you be upset if I told you to head home without me?" Daja asked as she stepped next to her brother, a cup of juice in hand.

"No," Briar replied. "Why?"

"I have somewhere else I need to be," the smith mage admitted, grinning at her dancer across the room.

Briar grinned knowingly. "Would she be where you need to be?"

"No," Daja admitted, turning towards him with a frown. "That would be a good deal pleasanter."

"Then where are you going?"

"Back to the Citadel with Sandry," she explained, rolling her eyes. "She is hosting a small gathering afterwards, and that unfortunate suitor managed to get himself invited. He hates Traders, though, and she's hoping me hanging about will discourage him."

Briar stood up a bit straighter, glancing about as though the young man may be in sight. "Playing protector? Is this the one from the last ball?"

"Yes," the smith mage agreed with a wry smile. "He's persistent, but completely out of his depth. Being newly made into nobility does not give him the right to harass her, and someone needs to tell him that."

The plant mage unthinkingly checked his sleeves. He wasn't wearing his arm knives, of course, Tris had made him leave those at home. But he did have his boot knives, and the one down the back of his neck..."Do you think I need to...?"

"I think the Duke is planning on having a word with him," Daja cut in, hiding a smile behind her cup.

"Ah, then I'll hold off."

She bid him a good night, and he did the same. Daja may not enjoy her task, but at least her dancer seemed happy to occupy her time until then. He didn't need the bond to know how very content his sister was, stepping smartly in time to the music with her heart's desire light in her arms. Which gave him an idea for himself.

His wife was quick to catch his eye, and his thought as he drew near. And he smiled when he felt her agree.

"Mother," she said as she turned towards her parents, "I believe I owe Briar one last dance before we retire for the night. Would you have any objections if...?"

"No, of course not," she said quickly, her smile wide as she gave her daughter's arm a gentle squeeze. "You have been more that cooperative tonight. We will make plans to see you again in a day or two's time."

"Thank you."

Briar met her at the edge of the dance for, and didn't need to say a word as he gently led her into the whirling patterns with the rest.

"Tired?" he asked, noticing she was unusually quiet as they progressed through the crowd.

"No," she replied, sounding surprised. "But I am ready to leave. I know this was to celebrate my father's birthday, but it was mostly for show for his business contacts."

"Which makes it feel more like work than fun," he offered, grinning down at her.

"Exactly," Tris agreed, wrinkling her nose.

The song ended, and they clapped with everyone else before Tris took Briar's arm and, happily, headed for the exit.

Briar generally wasn't a fan of carriages, he would much rather be ride than be bounced and jounced around in a stuffy box. He'd also, strangely enough, never been alone in one with a woman before. Tris leaned into him in the shadowed interior, and he breathed in the scent of _her_ as his thoughts took a decidedly different turn.

Tris was distant, though, and he sat back and watched as she drummed her fingers on her bottom lip. It was the usual precursor to actually biting her nails, and indicated a mind wrestling with something. A problem? A question? He felt nothing out of the ordinary along their bond, but that was hardly surprising.

 _Everything alright?_ He asked after several minutes of quiet contemplation.

She shrugged absently, then sighed. _Yes. I am just trying to come to terms with something._

 _With that?_

 _You. Me. Us._ She turned to look at him, eyes bright as one nail-bitten hand touched his face. _I love you._

 _I love you too_ , he told her, unable not to add, _Why do I feel like there is a 'but' on the end of your statement?_

 _Not a but_ , she said as she drew him down for a feather-light kiss. _An and._

 _And? And is promising,_ he said as he nuzzled his nose against her.

 _I am wearing your favorite boots tonight,_ she teased, fingers combing through his hair.

 _Is that what the and is?_ He planted light kissed on her ear, and heard her stifle her gasp.

 _No,_ she told him, sounding mildly annoyed. Her ears were very sensitive.

 _Are you going to make me guess?_

 _That's an excellent idea._

 _ **Tris**_ **...**

 _And I want to..._ His wife didn't need to complete the sentence, the image that came with it was explanation enough. Briar's pants were suddenly uncomfortably tight, and he swallowed reflexively. _But..._

 _I knew there was a but-_

 _But I want to block out our bond when we do._

That made the ex-thief pause. Confusion welled up, and close on it's heels hurt. But they never blocked the bond. Not when things were going well. Did she...was she hiding something from him? He could feel the strain as he asked, _Why?_

 _It's not you,_ she hurried to reassure him, her hands on his shoulders keeping him close when he would have drawn away. _But feeling your desire and mine together is too much. At least for right now._

 _I hadn't thought about that._ Guilt flooded in then, though he couldn't specifically have said why. It just seemed like they couldn't manage to get things right for more than a step at a time without something going wrong.

Tris sighed, and snapped, _Stop it. We agreed. No more guilt and no more blame._

Something she didn't say caught his attention though, and he whispered, _You really do want to...?_

 _I want to try,_ she told him, her honesty and sincerity evident in every word.

 _Without our link?_ It was a blow, yes. He had hoped to never really have to cut himself off from her again. But...

 _Yes._

 _Anything for you,_ he decided with a wide smile, adding, _No time like the present._ Carefully, he lowered his shield between them. The feel of her disappeared from the back of his mind, receding to just the barest thread. That did not diminish the way his lips on hers made his heart race and his breath hitch in the back of his throat. He chucked at the soft sound that escaped her throat, and murmured, "Careful, or the driver and footman will hear us."

"If he does, I'm blaming you," she replied breathlessly, pulling him down for another kiss.

Relief raced along with the pleasure that flooded her as Briar opened his mouth to hers. The thought had not occurred to her until after the cake had been cut, but it was a still a comfort to know her want and desire were her own. That his kiss still made her heart thrum and his touch still poured fire into her veins.

Abruptly Briar pulled back, and Tris realized with a start that they were stopped in front of the house. The door opened a heartbeat later, and Briar quickly stepped out. His exit gave Tris the moment she needed to pull her dress straight and check her snood. When he turned to offer her a hand down, she accepted and murmured a word of thanks in passing to the driver. Briar was the one to toss him a coin, nodding his thanks before heading to the front door.

Rod was waiting for them at the front door, a single lamp still lit in the entryway and another in dining room. There would be some food laid out there, as usual, and Briar's stomach rumbled at the thought. Tris shot her husband an exasperated look, and he shrugged with a guilty grin.

"I'm always hungry," he said apologetically. "But I'll just make a plate and bring it up, promise."

"Thank you, Rod," Tris said as she gave the serving man a brief smile. "For staying. Daja won't be returning tonight, so you are free to leave as soon as Briar is done stuffing his face."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you," Rod said with a small smile on his face.

Briar accepted the jibe goodnaturedly, and watched as his wife quickly ascended the stairs. When he looked back at the older man, he was receiving a bland look with amusement barely contained underneath.

"Right," the mage said as he cleared his throat. "Let me make that plate so you can get home."

"No rush, Master Briar," Rod replied. "The Missus will already be asleep when I get there, and I'm not needed back until afternoon tomorrow."

"Well, you may not be in a hurry but I am."

Walking to the dining room, Briar piled a plate with sliced meat, cheese and some bread and butter. Mustard he added on the side. Two mugs of tea, one exactly the way Tris likes it, were put on a tray. Some cookies (of course) and some pastries too, just in case. Rod cleared away the rest as Briar moved down the line, taking it back to the cold room to remain for the cook for the next day.

"A favor, if you don't mind," the mage said as the man picked up the last platter. "As Tris said, Daja is staying elsewhere tonight, and Tris and I won't be down until late tomorrow. Unless it's important, we're not to be disturbed."

"What qualifies as important, sir?" the serving man asked carefully.

Briar thought about that a moment, then said, "If the house isn't burning down, it's not important."

"Yessir." Rod's smile was wider than was quite correct with a servant, but Briar figured the man had earned it. "Glad to see things are well, sir."

"Me too," the plant mage rejoined as he took his tray to the stairs. "Be safe."

"Yessir."

Briar headed up the stairs as quick as he dared with his tray, humming to himself. Tris was waiting on the balcony, enjoying the breeze in her underdress. The overdress was already hung back in the wardrobe, and the young man quickly left his tray on the table as he went to join his wife.

"Decided to let me unwrap my own present?" he asked as he came up beside her, trailing a hand on her waist.

"Decided I pulled the wrong cord on your special knot," Tris replied tartly. A glance showed she was right, and he chuckled as he moved to correct it.

"Come sit with me first," he said as he pulled her back inside to the table. "I made you some tea."

That was enough to get her to agree, though the hot beverage meant she was in her own chair instead of his lap. It wasn't as close as he'd like her to be, but the talk was light and easy as he quickly polished off his plate. She did eat a cookie and a pastry, and he caught her studying the filling of one with a speculative look.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, smiling when she flushed a bit. Ah, good thoughts then.

"I've read before that some people like to mix their food and their...intimacies," she said, trying to sound casual but not quite managing it with her cheeks now a solid red.

"Mm, yes," he agreed slowly. "But...it's never as fun as it sounds. I mean, if you really want to give it a try sometime we can but..."

"You're not interested?"

"I'm interested in anything that involves you, but on the list of favorites it would definitely be towards the bottom."

Tris rolled her eyes at his careful wording, but smiled just the same. He would find a way to say it without contradicting himself.

"Now," Briar said as he wiped his mouth and hands and stood up to stretch. "Let's get into something more comfortable. I'm ready to be done with party clothes for awhile." Holding a hand out to her, he grinned cheekily. "My lady...?" She stood with him, and he went to work on the accidental tangle she'd made of the knots in the back of her undergown.

"Were you planning on going to bed without me?" he asked conversationally as he went to work. "Or was there something else you had planned in wanting to get this off while I was still downstairs.

"How long were you going to make me wait?" she rejoined, refusing to answer the question.

"I was ensuring we would be left in peace tomorrow morning for as long as we like," he replied loftily as he began unlacing the garment from the top.

Tris turned around slowly to stare at him, shocked. "What- what did you tell him?!"

"Just that we didn't want to be disturbed," he replied mildly, stepping closer to wrap his arms about her waist. "Whatever he decides to infer from that request is not my fault." Tris' retort was swallowed by soft whine as kisses trail down her neck. "Besides, if you think the servants don't know every intimate detail of our lives you aren't thinking clearly," Briar added as his clever fingers continued their work down her back.

"How?" his wife managed to a soft gasp.

The plant mage decided to take his wife's unusual lack of mental clarity as a compliment. "Tris, they do our laundry. They clean our rooms and workrooms. You can't handle someone's private possessions that much and not pick up a few key details about them." Amusement suffused his words, but he paused when his wife put a hand on his chest and stepped back.

Tris was not amused. "I hadn't thought of that," she admitted, frowning as possibilities and scenarios previously unexplored presented themselves for inspection. That would mean...

"There's nothing they haven't seen or dealt with before, and not just from me," Briar pointed out as he caught her hands in his. "Our maids are actually quite good at removing stains." The look his wife gave him should have seared him on the spot. "Tris, I didn't...I dropped an ink bottle on my bed once."

"You did not!"

"I did too. The housekeeper gave me grief about it for weeks. She also told me it was only marginally worse than the time you fell asleep over your notes with a stick of graphite in your hands while in bed..." He laughed at her guilty look, and she retaliated with fingers dancing up his sides. He did not squeal, but decided the only proper response for her cackle was to kiss her so thoroughly she forgot about the sound rather unmanly sound he definitely did not make.

His shirt was tugged loose from its waistband by impatient, nail-bitten fingers, and the laces at the neck pulled loose. The same break used to draw it over his head was also used to remove the underdress and leave both in a heap on the floor. He asked her to sit as he quickly removed his belt, until he realized she wasn't wearing her boots.

"You already...?" he asked, unable to quite hide his disappointment.

"Oh," she said, memory making her cheeks turn red. "Ah...I'm sorry, I..." Looking away, she whispered, "I was trying to...change. For you. Only the laces on the under dress...and the boots wouldn't have matched, so..." Sighing, she added, "I'm sorry I forgot. I just-"

His kiss cut her off.

"It's fine," he said as he pulled her with him onto the bed. "You're perfect the way you are already."

"Briar..."

Tris couldn't have said if she pulled him down or if he came to her, but suddenly there was no space left between them. Petticoats, his pants, her shift, all discarded as the weather witch realized the panic was gone and suddenly it seemed as though she could not be close enough to him. They paused for breath some time later, and Tris stared almost blankly at the canopy overhead as she reveled in the feel of his body pressed so completely against hers.

"I suppose," she murmured in the quiet dark, "we should, um..."

"Stop worrying about it" he replied as he moved to her breasts, kissing them and nibbling tenderly. "We'll get there." His breath on her skin made her shiver, and she didn't argue as one hand twined in his short, black curls and the other slid down his bare back. His lips grazed the sides of her breast, dancing around the pert nipple deliberately. Tris' moan of pleasure and frustration made him laugh until she sharply tilted her hips into his. The laughter cut off in a choked groan, and she could feel him twitch through the thin cloth of his short breeches.

"Impatient?" he teased hoarsely, shifting his weight so he lay comfortably between her legs.

"A little," she admitted as her hands wandered down to his hips and tugged at the waistband. "Are you teasing me just to tease me, or is there a reason for it?"

"I want to make sure you enjoy it as much as possible," he replied with mock indignation. "Which of course means taking the most time possible to do _everything._ " Her retort was cut off as he abruptly popped a nipple in his mouth. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment, tongue still teasing the hardening tip. "What was that?"

The glare promised he would pay later for that. It was absolutely worth it.

He could spend hours doing this, Briar decided as he lightly traced over each hardened ridge and bump with the tip of his tongue. Her gasps and cries made him determined to bring out more and he marvelled at how her salt-sweat taste reminded him of the sea.

A day at the beach, he decided as he slowly drew on hand down to her hip and started to trace a line with his fingers to her belly. High tide. With the big rollers crashing in, no one would hear them up in the grasses...

Clever fingers paused just below her bellybutton, and she nearly froze beneath him in anticipation. With a soft pop, he freed his mouth from her breast and grinned impishly.

"Not yet, I think," he said as he trailed the tips back towards her hip. Grumbles faded away as he kissed her again, and his hand instead headed down the leg propped at an angle beside him. At her knee, he turned in, tracing towards her inner thigh with a patience a decade of gardening had instilled in him.

Tris knew what Briar was doing. She also had to admit that it was working. Warmth grew in her belly as he inched closer to his destination, and it flared bright and hot as he sucked on her tongue. She lost herself for a time in his touch and taste, the scent of damp earth and new growth filling her nose.

Her mind came to sharp focus when he paused barely a finger width from his goal, and the whine of frustration brought another satisfied grin to her face. "Closer," he murmured against her throat as he began to traverse back towards her knee. "But not yet."

Tris' breath nearly quivered in her lungs as he made judicious use of his teeth at the joining of her shoulder and neck. The ache was fierce and unrelenting. The weather witch would have given almost anything for release right then, but there was also something tantalizing about not being allowed to. Something about not being in control as Briar danced her along the edge that made it sweeter still.

Briar's fingers moved faster now, urgency beginning to build as as he swept towards his goal. He paused this time just at the edge of her undergarment, circling his fingertip in the hollow there. The feeling was entirely distracting, and she almost protested when he simply removed it this time to switch sides again.

His eyes caught hers as he placed his hand between them, and she shivered as the pads of his fingers pressed more firmly this time, gliding along the curve of her body as he watched her closely. She stared back at him, wondering at how so simply a touch could become such exquisite torture. He reached her belly button, dipped one finger in the small hollow there, and kept going. There was no room for question or fear in her want.

Briar grinned. His hand slipped under the undyed cloth, fingers sweeping through wiry curls as he gently explored. Tris cried out as she arched into his careful touch, pulling him down to kiss her once again. She could feel his smile against her mouth as her body twitched in response to his clever hand, parting and teasing her with skill. One finger, then two. There was some pain, but her husband took his time and it faded quickly to the background. Gently probing and stretching until she was rocking in time with his fingers. He switched to one of her breasts as she neared her peak, sucking at her nipple as he pushed a little more with his hand.

Tris went hurtling over a cliff she had not known was there, more aware of herself than she ever had been before. She could feel Briar's fingers, buried in as far as they would go, and the way she squeezed them tight with each pulsing climax. He chuckled against her skin as she arched into his hand again, riding out the last waves, and slowly withdrew from her inner depths. More sensations flooded in as the waves of pleasure receded. His weight resting comfortably half atop hers, the sweat cooling on her brow. Goosebumps appeared as the heat of her fall began to leach away, and Briar obligingly pulled the blankets over them both.

"But," Tris breathlessly protested as she felt him settle in beside her more securely. "I didn't... _we_ didn't..."

"Give yourself a moment," he whispered as the hand not supporting his head ran over her side and hip in slow, soft circles. The touch made her feel loved and warm, but did not arouse her like before. "There's still time."

"But...you didn't..."

"No," he agreed, watching her with eyes full of smug pride. "But that was your first, and I wanted it to be special. Uncomplicated. And it might be a new favorite. Watching you lose control, and knowing full well I'm the reason...it's heady stuff for a poor gardener with his feet in the mud and dirt in his ears." Beautiful, Briar decided as he surveyed the whole of his wife and found her to be everything he had hoped and more. She was beautiful, and his, and-

Impatient.

Hands grabbed his head and pulled him down for a deep, slow kiss. Briar was happy to comply, and rolled the rest of the way on top of her when she tugged him closer still. She kicked her tangled undergarment to the side, and he was quick to press himself into the growing warmth between her legs. His moan filled her mouth as their tongues tangled together, and she was the one smiling smugly this time.

The aching want was slower this time, but she felt Briar's patience and responded in kind. Time was taken, and hands lingered as they explored the contours of each other. He was an odd mixture of hard planes and soft spots, covered by skin baked into a light brown by the sun. She could feel the muscles he had earned from hours of labor outside, and his palms were thick with calluses. Despite that, he was gentle beyond and the belief and took care as he pressed her into the featherbed beneath them.

"Do you still want to?" he asked, pausing for a moment to look at her face. "Because it's alright if-"

"I do," she said, certainty clear in her voice.

"You will have more control on top." It was a gentle suggestion, but she could also see the hope in his eyes.

"So I've heard," she replied dryly. "Also that it's your favorite."

"A favorite, yes," he agreed with a wide smile. "It's up to you, though."

"Are you always going to make me make all of the decisions?" she asked, half sitting up as he rose to his knees.

"No," he said frankly as he flopped ontop his back and wriggled out of his breeches. "If you like, someday I'm going to-"

Tris wasn't listening, her attention was arrested by what lay between Briar's legs. He stopped when he realized she wasn't paying attention, following her gaze to his fully erect manhood. "I know," he said dourly as he misinterpreted her expression. "I'm not _huge_ , but honestly size isn't everything and how you use it-"

"You're _not_?!" she asked, blurting out the question thoughtlessly and then flushing to rival the sun with embarrassment. "I mean, how is that going to _fit_ -" The words choked off, and Tris felt the blush she thought could get no worse grow warmer still.

Briar, momentarily distracted by the revelation that she could, in fact, blush to her tits, laughed. It was more self-conscious than anything else, but he couldn't seem to stop as tears welled up in his eyes. Tris just stared at him in confused irritation, and he finally got control of himself before she started hitting him with something.

"You don't understand," he said as he sat up, wiping his face clean. "I've never, uh...I wouldn't lay with women who were virgins before now. Too many complications. And the ones I did lay with tended to have a...colorful love life. I'm used to being told 'eh, you'll do', not 'I'm not sure it will fit!'

"So you're..." Tris wasn't sure how else to put it, so she added lamely, "Small?"

"Average. Kind of." Briar shrugged, and added quickly, "It's not an exact science, and everyone has their own preferences. Just like anything else."

"But you will...fit?" Tris asked, doubt still clear on her face.

"I should. I haven't heard of anyone having that particular problem." Honesty made Briar add, "Granted I haven't studied it either. But if it is, we'll see a healer. I would think, though, that if that were a concern it would be something healers would look for at your check ups. Like a weak heart or a troubled gut. It could cause problems, so...they would at least tell you or try to do something about it."

The logic was oddly reassuring, and Tris circled back to something from before. "So I'm your first...first?"

"Yes," he said with a wide grin. "And the first to hold my heart. No one else had that." He kissed her, arms pulling her close as he laid back once more. Tris followed, and straddled his waist with a confidence she didn't quite feel. Fear, she realized with a start, was back, and from a source she had not expected.

She was about to give something to Briar, something intangible and difficult to define or value. She wanted to give it to him, wanted to desperately, but once she did it would no longer be hers. He would have it, and she would not be able to take it back. It wasn't a thing, it was an idea. A...feeling. A first that held so much importance and yet was almost nothing at all. And if he left, he would take that feeling, that wisp of a thought, with him. A thing she could give and could never get back.

"Tris," Briar said, sensing her hesitation. "We don't have to." His hands stroked her legs, and he laid still beneath her as he waited for her to choose. "I won't be angry," he promised when the silence began to stretch. "Or hurt. I might have to leave for a minute, but I would be back as fast as I could." She did not answer, nor move. Gently, he touched her face. "Tris?"

"Do you mean that?" she asked, finally meeting his eyes and leaning forward slightly. "Honestly?" It felt strange to have to ask, but his shield was up and she had seen him lie before. He was good, very good.

"Yes," he said immediately, no hesitation in his voice. "We can try again another time. There's no-"

"And if it never happens?" she asked, her voice small in the dark.

Briar's face, half-shadowed by the dark, didn't change. "Then we would figure something out, together. I care about you more than I care about this. This isn't always going to be an option, but loving you will be and I will pick you every time-"

It was what she needed to hear. Leaning forward she kissed him, then reached for his head to line him up with her entrance. The member was hot in her fingers, and she felt him gasp against her lips as she caressed the soft skin that covered it. Carefully, she slid onto him.

The stretching was uncomfortable, bordering on pain. Then the border disappeared. Tris paused halfway, struggling to relax muscles that wanted to clench tight against the stinging discomfort. A glance up at Briar showed her husband half-dazed with ecstasy. His hands on her hips squeezed gently, and she tilted them in response sliding in another half-inch. Briar's sharp gasp was enough to tell her how good it had felt. His obvious pleasure helped drain the tension away, and slowly she slid down until she was seated to the hilt.

He was inside her. Filling a space she had not known was there until now. The pain was still there, but as she waited it grew less demanding. Like a muscle slowly easing into a deep stretch. Briar pressed himself up into her and she felt the stirrings of desire once again. His hands pressed down on her hips, and she let out a quiet cry as it triggered something that made her body _sing._ He repeated the action, and she quickly found herself rocking into time to his shallow thrusts.

"Are you alright?" he asked hoarsely as he kept pace with her. "Is this too much? We can-"

"No," she interrupted him as she gathered momentum. "Don't stop- please!"

The note of begging in her voice nearly sent him over the edge. Determinedly Briar focused on maintaining the rhythm and not finishing just yet. He wanted to, more than he could ever wanting to before. It had been months, and Tris was tight around him, squeezing almost to the point of pain. The sight of her naked body as she undulated against him was almost his undoing.

Just a few more, he started telling himself as the pressure began to build. Just a few more, just a few more, just a few more-

Briar spent himself in one final thrust, unable to stave it off any longer. He had expected Tris to keep going, to pursue her own end once again. Instead, his wife had stopped, surprise making her eyes go wide.

"Was that-?" she asked quietly, able to feel his hammering heartbeat through the hands braced on his chest.

"Yeah," he admitted sheepishly, his voice hoarse. "Sorry. I tried to hold on so you could...you know...again."

"It felt...strange." She shivered, closing her eyes. "I can still feel..ah!" He had twitched inside her, and she gave him a reproving look. "I think you did that on purpose."

"Nope," he replied with a smug grin. "That I couldn't control if I wanted to. Sometimes, he just has a mind-" He choked off into a half-swallowed moan as she shifted against him. Tris grinned and shifted again, and the sounds that came from her husband defying explanation. Desperately he grabbed for her hips to still her movement, and she let him. "Can't do that," he told her in a hoarse whine. "It's...too sensitive."

"Are you sure?" Tris's smile should have been all the warning he needed, but she still managed to slide herself free in one movement that left him gasping before he could stop her.

"Teasing woman!" It was at least two octaves higher than usual. She shuddered as the raging heat from moments before began to drift away. She was also aware of the mess between them, sticky juices that were growing cool. "Come here," Briar said as he tugged on one of her hands. She obeyed, curling up with him as he tucked the blankets around them more snuggly. As her heart slowed, tiredness began to set in and with it an odd assortment of discomforts. Her thighs ached, much like they had when she'd first learned to ride. Even her arms and hands protested slightly, reminding her of how she had used them to bear part of her weight as she had...lain with Briar. She had lain with Briar.

Their bond made her aware that her husband had lowered his shield, and in response she did the same. His mind drew as close as his body, and she took comfort in his presence as fatigue crept in.

 _Are you ok?_ He asked as he held her close, enjoying the feel of her skin against his. _Are you hurting much?_

 _No_ , she answered softly, still lost in her own thoughts.

 _I'm sorry I didn't hold on longer for you_. He was feeling guilty again, and she rolled her eyes as she debated trying to make him stop. His next words drove all such thoughts from her mind. _I thought you would keep going without me. I forgot...that this was your first._

 _You_ _ **forgot**_ _?_

 _What can I say? You are a natural._ And he meant it, which made her flush with pride. _I definitely got the better deal in this bargain. I get a beautiful woman with red curls and her own constellations across her skin, a package which includes a brilliant mind, lightning and the ability to make the best cookies in the world. You're getting a barely educated gardener with dirt under his fingernails._

 _I don't know,_ she said as she stifled a yawn. _You are a very comfortable pillow._

 _Is that the best you could come up with?_ His soft laugh deep in his chest rumbled against her cheek pleasantly.

 _You have very clever hands,_ she admitted as she laced her fingers with his. _I like them. They might even be a favorite._

 _Mmm, wait until you get better acquainted with my tongue. It's much more clever than my hands._

Tris shivered, then remembered the mess. _I suppose we should go clean up..._ Her yawn need not have interrupted her words, but somehow she seemed entirely unable to focus as her jaws nearly cracked from the effort.

 _Rest for a moment_ , he advised her gently. _There's no rush._

 _I might fall asleep._

 _Then sleep. We can clean up in the morning._ More to himself, he added, _We'll probably need a bath. Which we could take together...?_

There was no response. His wife, thoroughly exhausted much to his pleasure, was asleep.

"Goodnight, my wife," he murmured against her skin as he checked to be certain they were both well covered by the blankets. The rest could wait until morning.

-090-

Authors Notes:

First off, while I am sorry for disappearing for an extra week, I do have an excuse. It's Irma. I'm not going to go into details, but that rather catastrophic hurricane had an impact on us that threw our schedule out the window for nearly a week. We're all fine, our home is fine, etc etc...I just didn't have time to write for about five days. And I'm still playing catch up on other things so...one chapter is it guys. Sorry. It is what it is.

Second, I went back and forth on the lemon scene for probably sixth months now. There's actually about four versions of it. One is a radical change in how the issue with their magic and sex was approached that I eventually threw out because it got way too complicated. The other two are 'more explicit' and 'less explicit'. I decided to go with a middle path, because this is an adult story about adults and adults have sex. It's a thing, look it up if you don't believe me. But I also didn't want to veer into the ridiculous or the crude because that's a really easy thing to do with written sex. For those of you wondering if there's going to be more...probably not. There are references to them continuing to have relations through the rest of the story, but that's it for actual 'they are having sex and here's what happening' scenes. That's not the point of this story either, so, it is what it is.

Third, I think we're back to weekly updates. I have the next chapter almost complete, and the ones after that are nearing completion as well. If I get fed up with waiting, I might spam post the last few chapters. I haven't decided yet. There are, in total including the prologue and the epilogue, going to be 27 chapters in this story. So four updates left before we're done.

Fourth, thanks for all the reviews as always! I look forward to hearing from you guys, and hope this was worth the wait.

Until next time,

~CB~


	24. Chapter 23

Chapter 23

At some point during the night, Tris had rolled over to a pillow and Briar had followed to curl up behind her. He woke first, the smell of breakfast tantalizing his nose and empty stomach. Slipping out of bed, he pulled on his discarded pants and cracked open the door to the hallway.

The tray had been left at the top of the stairs, covered to help keep the contents underneath warm. Briar scooped it up, closing the door behind himself and setting it on the table to explore. A pot of tea, fresh biscuits, honey, jam and butter. Ham and sausage, hot porridge and cream. The aromas now filling the room roused Tris, and she sat up, looking about blearily. Even with her braids tangled together and her eyes squinting as she tried to locate the glasses that had been quickly discarded the night before, she was still the most beautiful woman he had ever woken up next to.

"I smell food," she said as she finally found her wire-rimmed spectacles and placed them on her nose. Glancing down abruptly and pulling the blanket to cover herself with a flush. "And I need a bath..."

"Which do you want first?" Briar asked as he crawled back into the bed to kiss her. She accepted, but kept the blanket firmly tucked around herself and drew a second about about her shoulders like a robe. "Cold?"

"N-no," she replied, flushing more as she refused to meet his eyes.

"Pity," he said as he leaned closer. "I would have offered to warm you up..." His smirking grin was one he thought of as his best, but today it didn't work.

"Food," she said suddenly, looking at the tray.

"Food?" he repeated, sighing in disappointment.

"That's what I want first," his wife clarified, tucking the sheet more firmly about herself.

Ah, well, he had asked.

"Your wish is my command," he said as he got up and went back to the table. A lap tray was pulled into service, and he quickly rattled off her options of what she could have to eat. She replied, and he dutifully put it together and brought it over for her. He then made himself a bowl of porridge with honey and a few slices of bacon stacked on top, and sat beside her in a chair to eat.

"So," he said to fill the silence, "do you think the party last night was a success?"

"I think so," she agreed as she enjoyed her own porridge and piece of ham. "From what I could see at any rate."

"The cake was very good."

"I noticed that. In a week no one will remember what it looked like, but I bet they'll remember how delicious it was."

He grinned as he admitted, "I was thinking the exact same thing."

They traded a few more observations about the party, and Tris was amused to discover her husband recalling it in a far more favorable light than he had while they were there last night. Well, it had ended on a high note for them both.

Briar was happy to take their used dishes and leave them outside when they were both done, keeping back only the teapot and biscuits, just in case.

"Bath?" he asked as he closed the door behind himself, a wide smile on his face. "We could share..."

Tris had turned pink again, and was refusing to meet his eyes.

"Tris, what's wrong?" he asked gently as he sat next to her on their bed. "You aren't...I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No! No, I..." The pink flush began to border on red. "It's just...it's hard to pretend that I believe you when you say I'm beautiful when the lights are on and there's nowhere to hide." Briar didn't immediately answer, but after a moment he moved closer still.

"I love you," he said softly as he kissed her on the cheek, holding her tightly to himself as she buried her face in his chest. "And I think you're gorgeous from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I mean it. If it's too soon, then you can go take a bath by yourself, and I promise to turn around when you do. If not, I would _love_ to take a bath with you. I will love you the same whichever you choose. But just so you know, you weren't hiding anything last night even with the lamp out, and I liked everything I saw."

Tris wondered, once more, if it was possible to die from blushing.

"What?" Briar asked when he noticed her reddened skin. "I did. Especially your freckles. Did you know they go all the way to your-"

The bond was open, and she knew exactly what he was referring to even without the words. "Briar!" she squawked indignantly.

His laughed at her dark scowl.

"That's not-...you still haven't seen everything," she insisted stubbornly, and something about the way her eyes lingered on his leg made it click in his head.

"You mean your scars." She nodded silently, and he held her all the tighter. "Could I see them now?" Because he could see no harm in asking, and the worst that could happen was her saying no.

Internally, Tris realized how silly hesitating was. They had lain together, in the most intimate sense, and she had already said she believed him when he said he wouldn't leave. Which she did, truly. So, if she believed him, then...she nodded her acceptance.

Briar gently tugged the blanket covering her back loose, exposing the fair skin to the bright sunlight of morning.

The scar was old, and faded with age. Someone had given her something to soften it, he decided, as he gently ran one hand down her spine. Rosethorn, probably. The burn was thick, the width of his finger and nearly as long. The flesh was just slightly pinker than the rest of her pale back, but it stood up from the rest in a raised ridge that was impossible to miss. It wasn't until he ran his fingers down her spine a second time, though, that he realized there were more.

The lines were so fine they could hardly be seen anymore, and they blended together to the point that it was hard to tell where one stopped and another began. Switch marks, the ex-thief realized with a start. Hundreds, maybe, layered on top of each other from the top of her spine to the base and stretching to wrap around her sides. A child's back would be small, he realized with a sickening drop in his stomach. Not much space to work with. Even just a few a night, they would add up over years and years of mistreatment. And each one was so small, with the right treatment they wouldn't have left a mark when they healed. Which meant they hadn't care enough to even give her the ability to clean her wounds.

"Who did this?" he heard himself ask in a soft voice.

"Mostly a lady's maid," Tris replied in a whisper. "My Aunt Muriel's. Every night they would tally up everything I did wrong, and I would get one stripe for each fault. I learned quickly, but there was never a night without at least one stripe. They could always find something to complain about. A few of the others I was sent to whipped me from time to time, but by then I didn't care anymore. They usually gave up after a few attempts did nothing to stop the strangeness that followed me."

The breath Briar let out was long and slow, and shuddered at the end as though he was struggling to control something deep within.

"They don't make you any less beautiful," he told her in a tight voice. "But it makes me want to wrap some of your family in thorns and leave them for the compost heap. Do you think your parents would mind too much?"

"Muriel is dead," she replied, a chuckle that was nearly a sob escaping her lips. "And her maid is Mila knows where."

"I bet your mother could still recommend a few cousins who need composting."

Tris pulled his lips down to his, and Briar eagerly pulled her closer still as he wiped away the tears falling down her face with gentle thumbs. "Thank you," she said after a time, wrapping her arms about his chest and holding as tightly as she could.

"You're welcome," he replied, running another hand down her still bare back as he wondered what she would do if he pinched her bare rump. It was right there, practically inviting him. A glance to her face showed her eyeing him in puzzlement, and he immediately changed course.

"Mistress Moss," he said with his best smile. "Would you care to accompany me to the bath?"

Tris flushed pink again, but nodded with a slight smile. "I think I'd like that."

She was right.

It was after the fact, skin pleasantly flushed from the heat of the water as she dried herself with a towel that Tris paused and said, "I'm going to have to go downstairs, aren't I?"

"Is there some reason you don't want to go downstairs?" her husband asked, pulling on clean breeches and fastening them with a belt.

"I'm not sure how to look anyone in the face without blushing after what we did last night," Tris replied, her cheeks quickly turning pink once more.

Briar blinked, a bit confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...I mean they _know_ ," the redhead said quietly as though trying to keep a secret. "Or they will soon. And you lied about it just 'wiping off the sheets' to Daja."

"It does wipe off," he replied quickly, deciding not to pursue how she could possibly know that tidbit of information. "Before it dries. Next time we'll start earlier, and clean up before we go to sleep if you would prefer. But really, the servants don't care Tris. They aren't going to...do anything about it. Not unless I do something stupid that makes you mad. Then I might find my meals going astray and my dirty laundry forgotten outside in a downpour." Because, if there was one thing Briar was certain of, it was that the servants would definitely take his wife's side of they were at odds.

"So we just...act like usual?" his wife said doubtfully as her teeth worried at her lower lip. It was wonderfully distracting, and made him want to kiss her again. With the pleasant realization that there was absolutely nothing stopping him from doing so, he did. When she finally managed to break away for air some time later, she added, "Assuming you _let_ me go downstairs."

That was also a tempting thought. But prudence made him reach for his shirt instead and begin pulling it on. She'd need some time to recover, after her first, and he wanted their second to end just as well if not better. That meant a little patience. Given how well his patience had rewarded him so far, he definitely had some to spare.

"Tris," he said as he did up his laces, "the cook and the housekeeper are married, as is Rod to one of the maids. They've all done what we did, in the privacy of their own home. And the other maid lives with her cousin, Rod and the cook and her husband. If you think she doesn't know about the birds and the bees at this point, then she must be deaf because her room butts up to that of Rod and his wife."

"How do you know all this?" Tris asked as she saw to her petticoats and corset. Briar thoughtfully paused his own work to help her with the laces.

"Rod and I talk when he's helping me outside," he explained as he neatly tied off her knots for her. "He hasn't said it outright like that, but you can piece it together if you listen hard enough."

"Does he...I mean can you tell...?" With the bond in place, she didn't have to finish the statement aloud, but she blushed just the same.

"Sometimes." His grin took on a particularly pleased expression. "Sometimes a man just can't hide the fact that he made his wife very, very happy the night before. That and I've caught him and his wife stealing a few moments in the cold room a handful of times."

"In the cold room?" Tris' mouth feel open as she added in shock, " _Our_ cold room?"

"Just kissing and cuddling, Tris. And, no, I didn't say anything to them," her husband said as he sat to pull on his stockings and boots. "They're adults _and_ they're married and they work very hard for us. If it's just a kiss and a cuddle and only sometimes, I don't see a problem with it. Can't expect people in love to be that close all day and not want to touch each other from time to time." He was thinking of their visits throughout the day, especially the time he'd convinced her sit on her desk for a while and she had to admit that he was right.

"I suppose," was all she said though. His smile took on a teasing edge as she stopped to smooth his collar. "What?" she asked, suspicious creeping into her words.

"You." He leaned in for another kiss, but she backed away a half step and gave him a warning poke in his side.

"No more of that," she told him with a wry smile. "Or I won't get anything done today. Besides, are you still determined to give me control of your fortune?"

"I am," he said quickly, deciding kisses could wait if it meant not having to convince her a second time that combining their money was the right thing to do.

"Then we will need to start on our way soon," she reasoned as the bells in the city began to chime the 11th hour.

"Your wish is my command." Old habits die hard, though, and he stole a kiss from her cheek before scooting out the door so she could finish straightening her braids and fastening her snood.

Moira met him on the stairs halfway down, and he said, "Tris is up and will be out soon. The room will need straightening, and clean sheets for the bed."

"Yes, sir," she replied quickly, dropping a slight curtsy before continuing on her way.

Daja was in the kitchen, eating a plate of leftovers from the cold room and sipping at her tea in her somewhat-rumpled finery from the night before.

"Just get in?" he asked, stealing a bit of pastry from her plate.

"Yes," she replied, taking a long pull of her almost-black tea. "It went well. The Duke had a word with the father, and the embarrassed father then dragged his besotted son away by the collar. And that should be that. After this, I'm going back to bed. You?"

"Just got up. Late night and all."

"Mm."

"Did you wish a plate, Master Briar?" the cook asked as she brought over a second cup of tea.

"No thank you," he replied, "the tray upstairs was plenty for me. Tris and I are heading out for a bit, though, and we'll probably want something when we get back."

"Of course."

"Where are you going?" Daja asked, curiously.

"That errand we spoke about the other day?"

"Right. Good." Her smile grew, but was cracked by the yawn that appeared behind it. "Ah, excuse me."

"Didn't you sleep last night?" he teased. "I thought your dancer wasn't attending the gathering?"

"No, she didn't," Daja agreed, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. "But, you know how it is. Even after everyone left, Sandry wanted to keep talking, and then apparently I fell asleep on her couch in her bedroom and she couldn't wake me so she put a blanket on me and left me there until I woke. She hadn't gotten up when I left. It seemed wiser to just come home and settle in my own bed for a bit then try and doze on a piece of furniture I couldn't quite get comfortable on."

"It happens to the best of us," Briar said with teasing sympathy.

"What, getting put to sleep listening to Sandry talk?" she asked around another jaw-stretching yawn.

"No, falling asleep somewhere we don't mean to," he clarified with a laugh. "And I am absolutely telling her you said that."

"Now that's just mean..."

Tris appeared in the doorway, as neatly put together as always and her carry bag over one shoulder. Politely declining anything to eat, she swiftly made certain all was well with the cook and housekeeper before telling Briar she was ready to go and greeting their sister with a kiss.

"You look done in," she told Daja, concern coloring her words.

"I'm going right to bed as soon as I'm done with this," Daja replied quickly.

"Good, you look like you need it."

"Yes, mother."

Daja was pleased to receive a second kiss, one on each cheek, as her siblings left, and smiled at their retreating backs as they walked arm in arm out the door.

"They're getting on well," the cook observed to the room in general, and Daja caught her knowing look with a laugh.

"They are," she agreed with a sigh, wondering if what the cook was implying had indeed finally come to pass. At any rate, she wasn't going to ask. She had made that mistake once already, and was in no hurry to repeat it anytime soon. "Thank you for the meal. I'll get out of your hair a bit and go sleep."

So she did.

-090-

"I have to say," Briar said with mock solemnity as he tucked his hand over his wife's a little more firmly, "Your composure was perfect."

"Do you really think so?" she replied dryly.

"Truly," he promised, laying one hand over his heart. "If I hadn't known any better, I would have sworn it impossible that only a bell ago you held your husband in your thrall during a bath that definitely deserves an award of some kind."

"Briar-!"

"I like it when you blush," he told her, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "It's definitely a favorite."

"You've said that before," she grumbled, though she made no move to let go of his arm. "Speaking of favorites, did you know your voice becomes rather soprano like when-?"

Briar had a feeling he wasn't going to win this one, but that was alright. In this game, losing was just as much fun.

-090-

Rod walked into the laundry chamber at the back of the house, arms full of wood to heat the copper kettles for the wash. There was always something that needed cleaning, and he did his best to keep the piles stocked so his wife and her cousin wouldn't run out when they needed it the most.

"Moira?" he asked when he spotted his wife unloading a basketful of sheets into one of the already-steaming kettles. "It's not bedding day, is it?"

"Looks like we'll be washing sheets more often again," the maid replied with a wide grin. "At least until a babe is planted. And with them both being mages, who knows how long that could take."

"Really? Well, he did say they didn't want to be disturbed..." He quickly set his load in the bin for wood and eyed how much more might be needed to keep it full. Only one more load, if he carried a bit more this time.

"Now to just get Misstress Daja settled on someone, and families growing, and we might be able to bring George and Liz on to help," Moira said as she began to mix soap into the hot water and push it all about with the heavy, copper stick. " A kitchen helper too, maybe, and our own messenger boy!"

Rod laughed at his wife, but it wasn't unkindly meant and she accepted it with good grace. "Now, Moira, you know it may not happen that way," he said as he poked at the fire and added a few more pieces of wood to the steady blaze.

"No harm in dreaming," she retorted, nudging him with her foot. Dropping her voice, she added, "That's almost the whole family then, those that want or need to work. The pay is good, and the work is fair. Besides, they're only a step away from being nobles. If their sister's uncle ever decides to reward them properly for their work, they will be. Then we really will need the extra help! Can't be understaffed if they're proper nobles."

"Don't talk about the Duke like that in front of either of your Aunts," her husband warned as he finished stoking the fire. "Or the Master or either of the Misses. Well, Missus and Miss."

Moira set aside her stick for a moment, and tugged him close for a kiss. "That's why I'm saying it to you and not them," she told him teasingly.

And of course, he was more than wise enough to keep anything she said to himself. "Alright," he said, kissing her back. After all: happy wife, happy life.

-090-

Tris had considered trying to back out of this particular promise. It still made her feel as though he would be giving more than he received to combine their finances into one. Still, his points were valid, and she was finding it harder and harder to deny him anything that she did not have a good reason to. Which is why, despite what she had said that morning, she knew very well how close they had come to not leaving their rooms at all.

The money house was one the weather witch had found upon her return to Emelan, and her siblings had eventually followed suit. She had been scrupulous in her choice, taking time to visit each in the city to ask questions and gauge their answers before settling on one. Briar and Daja had decided after a private chat that if Tris trusted them with her coin, it was probably the best place to put theirs as well. The establishment was of middling size, with generations of stability and a sterling reputation. It did have sister houses in other big cities, but none were overlarge and generally favored by the merchant class. It was not a grand building, but it was trustworthy and Tris put more stock in that than fine feathers.

Briar proudly led her up the short flight of steps to the front door, nodding in greeting to the footman who opened the door for them. A quick word secured them a private room with with a senior officer of the company, who was happy to assist them in combining their accounts. Ledgers were compared to be certain the amounts to be moved were correct, and then traded in for a new one that held both their names and credentials on it.

Somehow that made it more real than the weather witch had expected. Her name and Briar's, side by side in the clerk's neat hand, with the listing of their monies beneath it. Their monies. She was accepting his wealth as hers. Her husband sensed something and put his hand over hers, squeezing it gently. The officer left to file the signed copies of their agreement to combine the accounts, giving them a moment of privacy.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly, leaning towards her slightly. They weren't truly alone, the door behind them was not quite closed and the room beyond it was filled with lower clerks and junior officers at their desks.

"I am," she said, running her free hand along the leather-bound ledger that sat in her lap. "Just...this is one of those things I never thought would actually happen."

"Well, you're in charge of it now," Briar said with a smile. "You're better with numbers than me."

"You're still going to help," she informed him tartly. "I didn't marry you to become your bookkeeper."

"No," he agreed quickly. "I know. But at least I won't have to worry about mistakes now."

The senior officer's return cut whatever Tris' reply would have been off, and he congratulated them on their marriage as he handed them their copies of the signed and sealed forms.

"Is there anything else we can assist you with today?" he asked as he sat back behind his desk looking pleased.

"Not today," Briar said as he rose and helped Tris to stand as well. "Thank you."

"Then we will look forward to meeting your needs, whenever that may be."

Hands were shook, and Tris was glad to take Briar's arm once more as they walked towards the door. The footman on their side opened it, and they stepped outside almost directly into her parents.

"Mother," the weather witch said in surprise as both couples paused just short of collision. "What are you doing here?"

"Do you use this house too?" Darra asked in return as she kissed her daughter's cheek in greeting.

"We do," Briar said when his wife proved to still be too surprised to reply. "Tris picked it out, and the rest of us followed when she proved to be right. She usually is when it comes to money." He couldn't have hid his pride if he wanted to, and saw no reason to try.

"We use the sister house in Ninver," Valden said, clearly pleased. "I hadn't wanted to pry, but it is a relief to know you're keeping your coin somewhere safe. My father and my father's father used them in Ninver. It's a well-run business."

"We won't keep you," Darra added as the bells of the city began to ring the hour. "We do have an appointment ourselves."

The goodbyes were short, and once more a promise to get together soon made.

"I think they might actually like me," Briar said as they made their way towards their second target: the street of jewelers.

"Why wouldn't they?" Tris replied, her hand gently squeezing his arm. "Anyone with half a mind can see you're a wonderful catch for a crabby, difficult redhead like me."

"Oh, no, that's my line," he told her quickly. "Self-disparaging remarks is definitely husband-only territory."

"Why?" Tris asked, amused.

"Because it just is," he said, keeping his face serious in the way that meant he was anything but.

"That's a terrible argument," his wife informed him dryly.

The plant mage flashed a wife smile, admitted, "I know, but I generally don't win when I argue with you, so I'm not going to."

The street of jewelers had several stores and stalls along it, each offering a variety of options in the world of decorative wear. Briar watched as Tris began her research, asking careful questions of the purveyors and makers under the guise of perhaps picking something out for her birthday.

Not that she liked jewelery much. The marriage collar she wore now out of habit as much as anything else, but he didn't think he'd ever convince her to wear a bracelet or a ring on a regular basis. They were impractical for her work, and more likely to be damaged or cause difficulty than anything else. He gave up the notion of ever buying any sort of jewelry for his wife, until he saw the earrings.

Studs, he thought as he studied one case in particular. Or small rings for her ears. She would have to get the lobes pierced, but just the thought of it made him smile. Copper studs. Copper like her hair. Which made him wonder if copper could be convinced to hold a bit of false lightning to sparkle a bit. That would not only be pretty, it would probably sell like mad among the rich and snobby. A fashion trend begun by his wife. The idea made him quite pleased, on both counts.

Tris caught his eye, giving him an odd look, and he grinned guiltily.

Well, it was something to think about later, when he wasn't distracting her from making the most of their fortune.

-090-

It was two days later, and Briar hummed happily to himself as he made his way to Master Brunstwort's house. He was admitted, as usual, and led to a sitting room. He waited patiently for the master to appear, hands drumming lightly on his legs as he recalled the last week or so with a smile.

"Well, that's a good sign," a voice said sometime later. Briar looked up to see Master Brunstwort standing in front of him with a knowing grin. "I greeted you three times and you completely ignored me."

"And that's a good sign?" Briar replied, trying to hide his embarrassment unsuccessfully.

"Well, I could be wrong but I'm fairly certain it is," the older man said with a small smile. "If you like, we'll start in the usual way, though. Any more of the dreams?"

"No, I haven't had any in weeks," the plant mage said simply.

"Seeing or smelling things that aren't there?"

"No." Or at least not like the soulhealer meant. Oh, he could smell Tris if he closed his eyes and thought about her, but the memories that came with it were far from unpleasant.

"Right." The old man's smile had a knowing edge to it, and Briar wondered if perhaps his thoughts were being reflected on his face. That made him flush a bit, given where his thoughts had gone. "Then let's move on to the areas of stress in your life. The Chandlers. How are they doing?"

"Well enough. They're still here, and I'm still not certain they're convinced." He shrugged, far more casually than his words might have suggested. "It shouldn't take long, though. Not now." He knew his grin had turned foolish, and didn't care. He smiled that way because of Tris, and it was worth looking a bit silly for her.

"Oh?" Pen paused mid note, the soul healer gave him a searching look.

"Tris...loves me." The words made his chest grow warm, and he felt his smile soften as an echo came along the bond from his wife. Wherever she was, she had noticed, and responded in kind. "And I love her too. She's...she picked me."

"That is very good news to hear," Master Brunstwort said with less surprise that Briar had hoped for. He was too pleased, though, to care much. "How has everyone else taken the news?"

"Well enough." The plant mage shrugged, grimacing as other memories surfaced. "Our luck hasn't been as good on that front. We've had more people stumble into private moments in the first week than I thought was possible...but after the fact everyone has been happy for us. I've received the usual threats not to harm her. She's probably had the same for me."

His companion laughed at that, but replied, "Wonderful. And your...physical relationship?"

"It's..." And that's when he remembered. His directive for the next few months, of staying celibate for his mental health. "Ah, I was supposed to be abstaining from everything, wasn't I?"

"You were supposed to stay away from unhealthy relations," the soul healer corrected as he chuckled to himself. "As in, when you were using such times to ignore the brokenness inside. However, Tris would not let you do that, I think. And so I have no objection if the marriage has been consummated at long last."

"It has," Briar said, thoughtful. "Healthy and normal," he murmured to himself as he turned to gaze at the bald man. "You suspected, didn't you? From the beginning."

"I almost didn't believe you when you said she was your sister," Master Brunstwort admitted as he flipped towards the front of his notes on Briar. "Not from the way you described her. Then you explained how you were fostered together, and it all began to make sense."

"Really? What did I say that...?" Curiosity peaked its head up over the horizon, and the master nodded in acquiescence when he realized his patient really did want to know.

"Well, the fact that you told her first was indicative of how close you were," he said, still slowly thumbing through the pages. "And then when you began to describe her to me the first time, it was clear how important she was to you. How much you depended on her. Then there was the time you spent half a bell just talking about her _hair_..."

Briar blushed at the last one, but consoled himself with the thought that the same fabulous hair would need to come out of it's braids soon for a proper oiling, and he could think of a few fun ways to make the task less onerous. Clearing his throat, he tried to focus on the conversation at hand when he realized he was getting a pitying smile from his companion. "If you saw it, then why didn't you tell me?"

The answer was immediate and plainly given. "First, because you weren't ready. There is no shame in being broken by life. Only in refusing to put ourselves back together again. But when you are broken, often it is all you can do to make it from one day to the next. You needed to heal, at least some, before we could address other things. And second, it is because something given is rarely as precious as something earned. You needed to discover this possibility for yourself, and in doing so that knowledge would become far more valuable than if I had simply told you. I gave you the tools to walk the path, but you had to make the decision to do so."

"Hmmm." It made sense, even if the plant mage didn't want to admit it. He hedged his reply with, "I still...I wasted so much time..."

"Healing is never a waste of time," the soul healer replied evenly. "Would you have been as good a husband three years ago? Two years ago? Even a year ago?"

"I...well, not as good." The reply was grumbled a bit, and Briar kept his eyes on the floor as he wrestled with his guilt.

"Exactly," Master Brustwort said gently. "Now, had it come about that you and Tris had come to an agreement sooner, we would have addressed it then. I certainly wouldn't have attempted to forbid you anything regarding a relationship, she was too important to you. I might have advised caution or patience. But, I wasn't going to point out the possibility until you were ready to face it yourself."

"How do you know the right thing to do?" Briar asked, feeling a bit lost as he considered the numerous possibilities. "I mean...so many of my decisions these last few years are largely based on your advice."

"It is more guidance than advice." The older gentleman shrugged philosophically. "And more tools to help you make your own decisions than guidance. The actual decision itself can vary significantly from person to person in terms of what is best for their life. But the steps in which you reach that decision, those tend to be pretty much the same. I just help you with those steps, and let you take care of the rest."

"Thank you, Master Brunstwort." Briar extended his hand, and soul healer shook it warmly.

"It always has been, and always will be, my pleasure, Briar Moss."

-090-

Tris was supposed to be working, and the fact that she wasn't was once again Briar's fault. He had been right, his tongue was more clever than his fingers, and he'd spent most of the evening demonstrating that fact in detail. Details which now refused to leave her alone as she grew giddy and embarrassed by turns at some of the she had allowed him to do to her the night before. She hadn't enjoyed all of it, but he'd accepted that with good grace and that which she had enjoyed had been _magnificent-_

"Tris?"

The redhead jerked guiltily in her seat, looking up at Daja as she flushed a brilliant scarlet by reflex.

"Well," the Trader said with a knowing smile. "Do I want to know what you're thinking about?"

Her sister frowned and replied, "I don't know that I want to know if you want to know what I'm thinking about."

"As I'm assuming it involves Briar, no," Daja said as she leaned against her worktable companionably. "I will admit to being a little jealous."

"I thought you preferred women." The words slipped out before Tris could stop them, and her sister kindly didn't call her on the foolish statement as embarrassment stamped itself on her face.

"I do," the smith mage confirmed mildly. "It's not who you're with that I'm jealous of. It's the obvious fact that you're in love with someone who loves you back."

Embarrassment shifted to concern, and her sister asked quietly, "Your dancer isn't...?"

Daja shrugged, and her smile fell a bit. "Maybe. I don't know yet. It wasn't instantaneous, even with Rizu. And even if it grows into that, she's a dancer. Her troupe is scheduled to travel again next year. I could go with her, but...I don't know. Either way, we aren't there yet. There's nothing quite like it, being in love."

"No," Tris agreed softly, "There isn't."

"So," the smith mage went on before her companion could get lost in some obviously pleasurable thoughts, "The reason why I'm here is Briar tossed an idea at me last night when you were busy getting dessert, and now that I've thought about it from my end I want to ask you what you think."

"Ok..." the weather witch agreed carefully, wondering what it was her husband hadn't mentioned to her.

"False-lightning on copper or silver jewelry of some kind," Daja said as she opened the sketch book she'd brought along and flipped it to a certain page.

"You mean, sparks but no zap?" Tris clarified as she looked over the detailed drawings and notes on alloys and the cost of barstock in various amounts.

"Yes," her companion agreed with a wide smile.

"Hm..."

"I know, right?" Daja said as she caught the drift of her sister's thought. "Of course Briar would be the one to see the appeal. But on the practical end of it, here's what I think..."

-090-

It wasn't fair.

Ragan had a good operation here in Emelan, and Summersea was his home. Small-scale smuggling combined with legal shipping contracts. Working through policed ports cut into his profits, but also gave his business an air of credibility that meant he was rarely bothered by the authorities. And because he did not pack or receive the contraband items himself, it meant the risk to himself was low. He could deny any knowledge, and move elsewhere to begin again if it were necessary.

His contract with the Chandlers had been in place for nearly a decade. The branch of the family that had agreed to the deal had been eager to participate in anything that would end in a higher profit for themselves. The price they paid for the Qalai green sap was nearly double what it would cost from anyone else, but he knew half the bottles were packed with something that was not green sap. What that that something else was he did not know and did not want to know.

Valden Chandler, however, had thrown a decade's worth of good smuggling business out the window. Ragan had not realized the family head was present in Summersea, or that the man did not know all the details of the contract. He had, however, cancelled their contract and started anew with his 'competitor' in the same day. Ragan had been annoyed, but nothing more. He was only the messenger, and one who arranged the transport. Duly, he notified both parties of the interruption via messenger birds and washed his hands of the matter.

Until the visit.

The unexpected guest had been an unassuming scribe he would have usually brushed aside and ignored. The three men who accompanied the dusty little man had made him reconsider. Tall, heavily muscled, and openly armed, they had stood behind the stooped gentleman with a quiet vigilance.

Acquiring Ragan's undivided attention thus, the older gentleman had quietly explained in a careful voice that he had a problem and it was as a result also Ragan's problem. This problem needed to be corrected quickly, or else Ragan would suffer the consequences that could potentially fall on everyone else.

The final shipment had been stalled in the harbor, per Valden Chandler's direct orders. It was to be inspected, and then sold at auction to recoup part of his loss of profits. An inspection would cause uncomfortable questions for people. People who didn't like being questioned. Ragan, being the good business partner that he was, was obviously going to see that this was no longer a problem.

Refusal had not been an option. Two weeks, the man had warned before leaving. The auction was set for the last Airsday of Wort Moon, and the inspection would happen the day before. Only Valden Chandler could order the goods moved, and it had to be done in a way that caused no problems.

So Ragan had gone to Belosai. Everyone knew Belosai was a man who got things done, and had fingers in every pie in the city. He had listened, and named a price that made Ragan cringe. But he had agreed, and Belosai had gone to work.

It still wasn't fair.

The first plan, to simply buy the shipment out right through one of his many business contacts, should have worked. The price offered was a fair one, if a bit on the high end, and Belosai had worded the letter that went with the offer as a merchant desperately looking for goods he needed to provide for a seller.

It had not worked. Ragan wasn't certain if Valden Chandler had reason to be suspicious of the contents of the shipment, if he was simply too honest to sell goods he had no faith in, or if he thought he could get a better price at the auction block, but at the end of the day the polite refusal had been the same. Belosai had scoffed when Ragan had suggested a second offer, this time at a higher price. That was beyond stupid, he insisted, and would draw suspicion to his people. No, there would be another way.

The second plan was to kidnap his wife. It was an easy enough game. Find a time she was alone, spirit her away, promise to let her go as soon as he goes to the shipyard and releases the goods for immediate auction at which they would disappear and never be seen again. Belosai had done such things before, and he knew the precautions to take to foil the usual Tracker mages or bumbling Harriers.

The problem was, the wife was never alone. Or at least, never alone where it would be safe to take her. She went alone to visit her daughter, but her daughter was a mage and it was well known the house she resided in was heavily warded against intruders. She was alone at her own dwelling at times, but that was also a mage's residence and therefore also heavily warded. She went alone to visit the famous dancer, but that place was almost more difficult to sneak into than the Duke's citadel. And everywhere else, if she wasn't escorted by her husband then she didn't go. If she walked the roads, she kept to the crowds and was very aware of her surroundings. If she took a cab, she kept track of where she was and would correct the driver immediately if they took a wrong turning. She was, in fact, the worst sort of woman to attempt to kidnap.

It could have been done, of course, but it would have been difficult in the extreme to do without it turning messy. And if they failed the first time, there wouldn't have been a second chance.

So they turned to the third plan.

It was now a week after Ragan had first been visited by the dusty little man, and he sat in Belosai's office as they discussed the possibility of, instead, taking Valden Chandler himself.

"It would be an expensive venture," Belosai was saying as he poured them both some wine. Cheap wine, Ragan knew, but he drank it all the same. "We'll need to have followers on him around the clock, to strike when the moment is right."

"I'll pay it," Ragan agreed raggedly. "He visited again last night. It was...most unpleasant." He shuddered, and it was not the least bit theatrical.

"If you would but tell me what he looks like," Belosai said conversationally, "I am sure one of my friends could find him and take care of him. This is not how we do business in Emelan, not with the Duke watching over our shoulder all the time."

"It makes no difference," Ragan lied as he stood to go. "And...this is just the way I wish to do it. You are certain you can find a time?"

"I believe so. He is more careless with his person than his wife is."

"Good."

Ragan took his leave, and hurried out the door, glancing around though he knew it was futile. The little dusty man could be standing right beside him, and he would never know it was him. Because no matter how hard he tried, Ragan couldn't remember his face.

Magic, he decided as he rushed home as quickly as he dared. Powerful magic, and he had no desire to get caught up in whatever that meant. Finish the job, and wash his hands of it. That's what he needed to do, and nothing else.

He couldn't wait to be done with all.

-090-

Tris came downstairs to find her husband waiting with a packed hamper and a wide grin. He had promised her a surprise the night before if she could give up half the day to whatever it is he wanted to do. She'd agreed, because anything that gave her an excuse to spend time alone with him was increasingly attractive at the moment.

"Picnic on the beach?" he asked as he dropped a kiss on her cheek.

"That sounds nice," she agreed with a wide smile. "Are you sure you have the time?"

"We won't be gone all day," he said as he gave her a cheeky grin. "And I'm set. Only if you want to go, though."

"I want to go," Tris said quickly, "And I did agreed to it last night. Let me go get a book, and I'll meet you at the cart."

"Ok."

Briar kept Tris entertained on the way describing his first time meeting Lord Thurston and friends in his home. "I thought I couldn't be embarrassed by much," he concluded as their destination came into sight. "Obviously, I was wrong."

"'Blunt' is putting it mildly," his wife replied, cackling to herself.

"He's a good one, for all that he's a bag," Briar said, smiling ruefully. "And the work benefits both of us. I need you to look over some of the gifts they've given me, actually. Help me drive a good bargain when I go to sell."

"Is that why you married me?" she teased as he helped her down from her seat. The boy at the stable accepted their coin and lead the beast off. "To keep the shopkeepers from cheating you?"

"No, it's just a fantastic bonus," he said with a wicked grin. "We can discuss the rest when we're alone." He lifted his brows suggestively, and Tris fought her blush. "Do you have some place in particular you would like to go?"

"Anywhere is fine," she replied, refusing to meet his eyes as she watched the waves. "I'll follow you."

 _Do you mean that?_

 _Yes._

Briar turned his steps to the right.

The spot he chose was further down than their last visit, and Tris spotted other baskets peaking through the tall sea grasses on the rolling dunes on the way now that she knew to look for them. He placed the basket and then pulled out what was packed inside as she spread the blanket. A glass bottle of a lemon drink Briar liked, and cold mint tea for her. Spice cookies, penny pies, sandwiches that had been sliced into fingerlings, and tiny cubes of cheese and fruit.

"Briar," she asked as she opened the tea. "Who packed the basket?

"The cook," he replied as he settled in next to her. "Why?"

"I didn't think you would cut the cheese to look like flowers." She held up a specimen for viewing, and he pulled her hand closer so he could inspect it.

"She always packs for the occasion," he said before taking it from her fingers with his mouth. Pink stained her cheeks, and he grinned before asking, "Are you going to read?"

"Are you going to let me read?" she replied in a husky voice.

"Maybe." He kissed her ear, and felt her lean into him more. "Do you want me to let you?"

Tris wasn't able to reply, her lips were already occupied with his.

Time passed, and eventually the weather witch pulled away with a wide smile and pleasantly flushed skin. "I think the rest can wait for tonight," she told him as she lay on her back next to him to stare at the sky.

"Is that a promise?" he said as he rolled on his side to watch her face, his own lips stretched into hopeful grin.

"Might be," she said, trying to keep a straight face.

"Anything I can do to get a more definite answer?" the plant mage asked as he walked his fingers teasingly up her arm.

"Might be." Her smile turned wicked as she met his eyes.

"If you can't give me a more specific answer, teasing woman," he said seriously, "then I cannot be held accountable for what happens next."

"Well," she said, face suddenly thoughtful, "there is something that needs doing, and a promise to help would _definitely_ be deserving of a reward."

Briar's eyes strayed to his wife's braids and his grin grew.

"Name your price."

-090-

Briar had guessed wrong. But, all in all, he decided as he found himself in his old bedroom after dinner helping his wife sort through the several wedding gifts that had been a point of contention so many months ago, it wasn't so bad. Briar had felt that since their wedding was essentially as society-climbers event, any gift brought was fair game. Tris hadn't agreed. After all, the gifts were given with the assumption they would remain married. It was simply part of the social exchange. Since they weren't remaining married, they should return the gifts if asked too. Which meant the gifts could not be used.

There were exceptions, of course. Their wedding clothes, and the marriage cup from Daja for the feast. The swinging bench in the garden from the Duke.

The rest, however, had begun to pile up in Briar's old bedroom in the weeks following the wedding. Sandry had taken care of the appropriate responses to everyone, keeping careful track of who had gifted what. The packages now nearly overflowed the small room, and the housekeeper had begun to be rather insistent that something be done about them sooner rather than later. Especially as entering the room was now potentially hazardous if one was not careful where one stepped.

Which is why Tris had roped Briar into helping her sort it all out.

"You're certain this is what you want to do with your evening?" he asked as he began to open boxes to figure out what was inside.

"It's not what I want to do," she replied, giving him a frown. "But it needs to be done, and I'm rather tired of having it obliquely mentioned at me."

 _She's good at that, isn't she?_ Briar mused as he tossed the second set of towels he found with the first.

 _Yes, and I don't guilt easily. But something about the way she says it just..._

 _Makes you feel like a child who's being gently reprimanded?_

 _Exactly._

 _Then we'll get it done._ Aloud, he added, "I can't decide if this is going to be boring or fun."

"It probably depends on whether or not any of the gifts have something fun in them," Tris replied as she set the painting she had uncovered aside for Briar to look at.

"What do you think would be fun?" her husband asked, curious.

"I don't know. Let's find out."

Much of it wasn't fun. Towels and bedsheets, plate sets and cooking utensils. All of these were immediately turned over to the household staff to use or not as they saw fit. Briar had no idea whether or not it was better than what the household already had, and Tris prefered to let the staff decide for her. One of the maids carted it away as they went, for the cook and housekeeper to look over the next day. Anything not used would need decisions made about it another day, but most of it would probably be re-gifted in turn, sold or donated to a worthy cause.

There were a few pleasant surprises. Briar found the pots he had been eyeing so covetously at the wedding feast, and with glee began to imagine what he might do with them. Tris discovered a set of diamond-tipped tools for inscribing glass, stone or metal. There were a few pieces of artwork they both liked, and a few they both laughed at.

"This is not staying in the house," Tris said as she eyed the fertility statue with a snort.

"Tasteless comes to mind," Briar added as he gave it a good look. "Inventive, though..." Thoughtfully, he glanced at his wife and caught her eye with a questioning tilt to his head.

His wife's return look had been enough to tell him that was absolutely _not_ happening. Oh well, you couldn't have everything. And, honestly, it hadn't looked like a particularly comfortable pose to hold for very long.

"What is this even supposed to be?" he asked a moment later as he held up a rather strangely hued specimen.

"It says a portrait of the city," Tris replied skeptically.

"What do you see?" her husband replied, unable to find a way to accurately describe the mishmash of colors and shapes crowded into the wide frame.

"Not a portrait of the city," she hazarded after a few moments of contemplation.

"I'm not even sure we could sell it," Briar said as his wife moved on.

Tris pulled out another painting, and snorted. "Why would someone give us a commissioned portrait of the Duke?"

That caught the ex-thief's attention, and he set his painting aside as he caught sight of what she was holding. "I think it's a regift. I'm pretty sure I heard about this making the rounds among the noble houses some years ago. It was a joke the Duke didn't find very funny."

Tris considered that, then said, "Let's give it to Sandry, then. Or Yazmin."

It was an excellent proposition. "Agreed."

Then Tris found the gift from Lord Thurston. She opened it to find a box of especially soft ribbons in various colors, all about eight to twelve inches long. There was a note tucked in the side, and she opened it curiously. She started to laugh.

"What?" Briar asked, suspicious when he saw the rather innocent looking box of ribbons in her hand. She didn't speak, but simply handed him the note still laughing.

It read:

 _My dearest boy, congratulations! I am told marriage to a wonderful woman is a wonderful thing, and I believe you may have caught one of the best. My gift to are willie-ribbons, in various colors so you can be appropriate to all occasions. Always makes a woman smile, and that's the first step to a good tupping. They are also the right length for that knotting technique we discussed._

 _Best of luck,_

 _Lord Thurston_

"Oh, Lackik's teeth, is he...?"

"There's a pink one!" Tris crowed, nearly hiccuping she was laughing so hard. She leaned against the wall, fanning herself desperately with one hand as she tried to regain control of herself. "Oh, Mila, I can't-!"

Briar took the box from her unresisting hand, searching it thoroughly. And, there really was a ribbon for every occasion so far as he could see. Glancing at Tris, he grinned. "Well, given your reaction I think he might be right. So, Mistress Moss, which color shall I beribbon myself with first?"

"I don't think I could stop laughing long enough to pick," she told him, wiping a stray tear from her eyes as she finally caught her breath.

"I bet I could give you a reason to," he said, stepping closer with a teasing grin. "After all, you have all those lovely things I love for you to wear for me. Surely there's something I could do to return the favor...?

"As a matter of fact..." she said, a thoughtful smile spread on her face.

Tris showed him a picture in his mind, and Briar paused.

"Flowers?" Tris flushed, and Briar shrugged. "I suppose I could make you a crown-" His wife emphatically shook her head. "...for me?" She nodded, her face growing redder still. Briar's brow rose, and he leaned in to whisper, "If it makes you turn that red, then...yes."

As it so happens, a crown of lavender is best accompanied with a ribbon of silver-blue.

The next morning, Tris dried the crown with a bit of wind magic and hung it on her side of the bed. Briar always made a fresh one whenever she asked, and sometimes when she didn't because he enjoyed her reaction just as much as she did, but she insisted the first one be kept as a memento just the same.

They finished sorting the gifts that morning as well, and while they found nothing else as 'fun' as the willie-ribbons, at least the housekeeper was satisfied.

-090-

Authors Notes:

An on time update! Woo!

For those of you counting, this puts us three chapters away from the end.

I'm sorry I haven't replied to anyone, but as of right now I'm getting all of my reviews as Guest reviews. I'm not sure why. There's been one or two who have attached your name to the guest review, but it makes it harder to reply (and therefore rather likely that I'm going to forget to reply) than if you're signed in. I thank you anyways for the reviews, and hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as the rest!

That's it until next week. See you Friday!

~CB~


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